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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479057">We Grow Accustomed to the Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_David/pseuds/A_David'>A_David</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hannibal (TV) Fusion, Bella Crawford - Freeform, Beverly Katz - Freeform, Beverly Katz is the Best, Brian Zeller - Freeform, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Dark Will, Dark Will Graham, Dinner Date, Dogs, First Kiss, Fucked Up Love, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 01, Hannibal Lecter - Freeform, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack Crawford - Freeform, Jimmy Price - Freeform, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Murder Kink, Prompt Fic, Sassy Will Graham, Season 1, Serial Killers, Someone Help Will Graham, Strained Relationship, Therapy, Will Graham &amp; Beverly Katz Friendship, Will Graham - Freeform, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Will Graham's Dogs - Freeform, descriptions of cooking with people, different first meeting, mentions of rape and sexual assult, unhealthy relationship, will graham/hannibal lecter - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:09:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>135,845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_David/pseuds/A_David</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Prompt: Dark Will Graham<br/>Dark Loner Will Graham intrigued by The Chesapeake Ripper . . .<br/>Chesapeake Ripper annoyed  that his chosen rude are already dead, sloppily displayed, mocking him . . .</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham &amp; Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, hannigram</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>410</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I found this prompt on a Facebook page and I believe it was from Nite Storm. So, thank you for posting this and then making my loose my mind and spend hours on this when I already have a giant ass Hannigram fic I'm working on.<br/>This is meant to be a one-shot, but I might come back to it after I'm done with this other fic I'm writing.<br/>And fair warning, this isn't betaed. I stayed up all night and all day and all night writing it, so if there's spelling errors, forgive me and my tired brain. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you did!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                              </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Either the Darkness alters - Or something in the sight adjusts itself to Midnight - And Life steps almost straight.<br/>
-Emily Dickinson, We Grow Accustomed to the Dark</p>
<hr/><p>This feeling wasn’t quite new to the man, though it had been quite some time since he had allowed the feeling to enter his blood stream. His fingers drummed on his desktop in silent fuming, his other hand propping up his chin, an index finger over a frown on his lips as maroon eyes stared down at the tablet in front of him with a new Tattle-Crime article. </p><p>This was the third in a row and the good Doctor Hannibal Lecter, in all of his usual cool elegance and collected mind, was seething quietly. This couldn’t be a coincidence, he didn’t think that most things in life were, but this was something special. Something different. Something just as intriguing as it was infuriating. </p><p>Without fail, his last three soon to be victims had fallen prey to someone else on the eve of when Hannibal had decided to pounce and Hannibal had the displeasure of the feeling that someone had somehow read into his own mind to find the details of his carefully planned killings. </p><p>Miss Josephine Langlais had been the first. A barista who had been incompetent enough to ruin Hannibal’s afternoon coffee more than once. The first time had been accidental and he could let that go. Everyone had their bad days. But by the fourth time, Hannibal had decided to stay and watch. Each order came out wrong to destroy any organized person’s carefully prioritized schedule and each one was purposefully messed with in ways that only solidified Hannibal’s desire to never eat or drink anything that wasn’t made by his own hand. </p><p>The morning that he was going to snatch her up he had been stopped by a news broadcast on the radio in his bentley. He stopped outside of the cafe to listen carefully to the proceedings of a nearly carbon copy of his very own design, laid out for the world to see and not by his own hand. </p><p>Josephine had been found with her chest carefully cut open and peeled back to reveal lungs that were no longer a lively pink color. Instead they were medium rare to match the bright burns over her face from being forced to drink boiling coffee before slowly drowning in the black liquid that was the temperature of the sun. </p><p>The second had been a Mr. Mitchel Haven. Mitchel Haven was a maintenance man who had done a botched job of some work in Hannibal’s office when Hannibal had needed a rather unsightly hole in the drywall, from a not so nice patient, repaired. The man had refused to return any of Hannibal’s calls about the unprofessional manner in which his office had been left. With some deep digging into online reviews that had been meticulously hidden or deleted, Hannibal found that he was not the only one left unsatisfied. </p><p>The very next day, Haven had been uncovered in a park. A large sheet of drywall had been stood up and the man nailed to it. Nails from a nail gun carefully placed through feet, shins, thighs, wrists, arms, torso, chest and neck. The killing had been from a single nail driven through the man’s forehead and into his brain, but not before his hands were carefully dissected. Skin was carefully pulled back and muscles and arteries and bones were pulled apart in loving attention. They were splayed across the drywall like a crude art project, each one labeled as if belonging to a medical textbook. </p><p>The last had been found several hours before Hannibal had gotten from bed to start his morning routine. Mrs. Julie Greene was the third victim of the person they were calling The Baltimore Butcher. A name that Hannibal found oddly inappropriate for the works of art that were being displayed. The individual behind these pieces was not a butcher in any sense of the word. Each and every detail was precise in it’s placement, each decision perfectly thought out ahead of time. The only thing separating the kills from Hannibal’s was the fact that there was never anything missing from the body. No souvenirs were taken. </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes wandered the article once more, taking in the gruesome details as well as the image that Freddie Lounds had been able to somehow get a hold of. Her methods were most unorthodox, and though Hannibal was a firm believer in practicing the unorthodox, Miss Lound’s practicing often toed the line of rude. </p><p>Mrs. Julie Greene was well known in the upper circles of Baltimore society. She was married to a senator and enjoyed money more than she should. She was loud and obnoxious and the action that had thrown Hannibal for a loop was her indescribable lack of consideration for a performing artist. </p><p>Hillary Hahn had just finished a delightful Violin Concerto in D Minor by Sibelius and had been in the middle of a rather remarkable rendition of Bach’s Partita for Violin Solo when Mrs. Greene’s cell phone had gone off. The violinist had played it off as well as one could, laughing off the interruption while Mrs. Greene rushed from the room to take the call, before starting the piece once more. </p><p>The night had been effectively ruined and it seemed that his day was once more in for the same outcome. That was until he received a call from a rather old friend that he hadn’t had the pleasure of speaking to in a long time, both men rather busy with their work. </p><p>“Jack Crawford,” Hannibal greeted in a voice that betrayed the way his inner demon was swirling. “What can I do for you on this fine morning?” </p><p>“Fine?” Jack asked back with a loud and hearty laugh. “If that’s what you could call it.” </p><p>“Is something the matter?” Hannibal rose from his desk and went for his coat rack to pull on his coat, more than well aware of what the morning was calling him towards and he was more than ready to partake in it. How could he possibly say no? How could he not see this master’s creations first hand? “You sound a little stressed.” </p><p>“Thank you for putting it mildly Doctor Lecter,” Jack continued on with another laugh, a coping mechanism that Hannibal had noticed the man had picked up over the years of how brutal his work was. “Have you seen the news yet this morning? The press caught wind of a rather nasty case before we had a chance to shut them down.” </p><p>“I haven’t had the chance,” Hannibal answered back smoothly, pulling his car keys from his coat pocket to unlock the door to his bentley. </p><p>“This last body is a bit of a...” There was a deep inhale and exhale from the man across the line. “Let’s say that I need another set of eyes on it.” </p><p>“I thought Alana Bloom was helping you with your cases now. Or I’ve heard that Heimlich at Harvard has been a rather large helping hand.” Hannibal started the car and pulled from the driveway, the address of the crime scene already fresh in his mind thanks to a certain redhead who was a little too eager with her work and would end up regretting it someday. </p><p>“That’s the thing. Both are a bit preoccupied at the moment,” Jack explained back with a hesitant tone as if he didn’t want to admit the bind that he was in. “I do have a rather...” Jack paused for a moment and Hannibal’s brows rose in curiosity as he waited for the rest of the sentence. “We’ll call him gifted. I have a gifted individual to help me, but he has a hard time handling the stress of the scenes. He’s not strictly cleared for field work. I more need an eye on him while he works while I work on getting him rubber stamped.” </p><p>“I hope you’re not looking to me for said rubber stamp.” A smile pulled at Hannibal’s lips at the idea of signing off documentation on an unstable person for work as important as the FBI’s work was. It would be an interesting turn of events, something rather enjoyable to watch play out. </p><p>“I’m trying to wear down Miss Bloom at the moment. You will be my next call if she falls through.” Jack gave another sigh. “Would you mind lending me a hand? I know that you’re busy and normally I wouldn’t bother you, but I need-” </p><p>“Only if you and your beautiful wife will once more grace me with your presence for dinner,” Hannibal interrupted easily. “It’s been a long time, Jack.” </p><p>“We should catch up. I will let Bella know. I’m sure she will be thrilled.” There was a hint of a grin in Jack’s tone. “I will text you the address.” </p><p>“I will be there as soon as possible.” </p>
<hr/><p>“Doctor Lecter!” Jack greeted, a large gloved hand reaching out to take Hannibal’s. Hannibal returned the rather firm grip from the strong man with the broad shoulders. “Thank you so much for coming.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a playful sigh that floated away deadly in the chilled winter air and a small smile as he looked over the concert hall that he had been in no longer back than a week ago. Eagerness drummed through his veins, hot and sticky. He wanted to see what had become of Julie Greene right away. He was in no mood for small talk and the pleasantries of chit-chatting when there was something far more interesting just behind those large oak doors. </p><p>“It was no issue. Really,” Hannibal assured with an ornate wave of his hand. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do or a friend.” </p><p>“If you would follow me.” Jack nodded over his shoulder to the building and guided Hannibal through a large crowd of people, all in windbreakers with large letters reading FBI across them. Each person was busy with their own jobs, some carrying boxes of bagged items, others with clipboards and some with cameras. But the one person who caught Hannibal’s eyes was a man standing to the side of the main doors of the concert hall. “Doctor Lecter,” Jack said, motioning over to the man who had yet to look over to them, eyes firmly held on the ground under a mop of rich dark curls. “This is Special Agent Will Graham. Will, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes trailed over the scruffy looking man as the man finally looked up, though he didn’t meet Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal knew well enough that Will’s eyes were directly focused on his nose, avoiding eye contact behind oval rimmed glasses. It was a coping mechanism taught to children with ADHD or Autism to help them appear more normal. </p><p>His ill fitting blue coat, probably from a thrift store or a hand-me-down American Eagle, was nowhere near warm enough for the winter. It covered a ratty looking Wind River flannel shirt that was tucked into well worn jeans that were dirty at the knees as if the man had been pulled away from doing some sort of yard work. His fingers were also bandaged up messily. A twitchy, anxious man who held out a trembling hand as a show of normality, though Hannibal could easily read the want to be doing anything else coming off the man in waves. </p><p>“Pleasure to meet you, William,” Hannibal said, returning the handshake, surprised at the firmness of the grip.</p><p>“Just Will,” the man said softly, quickly dropping the greeting before turning to Jack, voice low but purposefully loud enough that Hannibal knew he was meant to hear. “I told you I didn’t need a doctor. I’m just fine.” </p><p>“Will, we have been over this. If you want to help consult on cases, I need you under supervision until I can get Alana to approve-”</p><p>“I never wanted to help consult on cases,” Will quickly corrected, leaving Hannibal once more surprised at the coldness in the man’s voice. It was riddled with anxiety, cracking and breaking, words tripping over themselves as he blinked as if there was something in his eyes. “You know-You know that Jack! You knew that I never wanted-I-I-I never wanted to work on these cases! It’s tasteless how you’ve dragged me into this.” </p><p>“Do you have trouble with taste?” Hannibal called out, pulling both of the men’s attention back on him, effectively sending Will into a silence that Hannibal couldn’t find himself able to place exactly. </p><p>Will worked his jaw for a moment, head tipping back and forth, hands shoving their way into his pockets. He inhaled carefully, finally answering. “My thoughts are often not tasty.” </p><p>“Nor mine.” Hannibal gave a sigh and glanced over at Jack with a reassuring small nod. Will wasn’t made for this line of work. Jack often had a habit of finding rare gems, diamonds in the rough, that he would drag into his clutches and exploit for his gain. Will was just another one of those jewels. Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure what made him so special as of yet, if anything the man was rude and just as deserving of Hannibal’s dinner table than any of his other kills, but Jack saw something in him. Just as he had seen something in Miriam Lass and just like he would no doubt see in some other younger student that had yet to enter the school. Maybe some poor off farm girl who was afraid of the cries of animals being slaughtered. “No effective barriers.” </p><p>“I build forts,” Will commented in an annoyed sort of huff with a roll of his brilliant blue eyes that could have been painted by the likes of Botticelli with the depth that was held in them. </p><p>“Associations come quickly.” </p><p>“So do forts.” Will turned back to Jack as if asking if they really needed to continue down this conversation, but with no emotion from Jack in either direction, Hannibal quickly picked up the conversation once more. </p><p>“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” </p><p>Those blue eyes quickly snapped back to his face, though they still stayed trained on Hannibal’s nose, not daring to look further up and it only made Hannibal that much more curious. How far could he push before he was met with those eyes? </p><p>There was a deep sigh from the man, put off, and he rolled his shoulders back, armoring himself to push forward with the conversation. “Eyes are distracting.” He gave a small nod at his own words as if giving them their justification. “You see too much, you don’t see enough,” he listed off, tone once more a bit on the bored side. “And-And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um...” He licked at his lips and finally Botticelli blue met merlot red and Will’s head tipped to the side, something akin to curiosity in his gaze rather than the panic that Hannibal had been expecting to find. “Oh, those whites are really white, or, he must have hepatitis, or...” Will stepped a little closer, head tipping back the other way, though he didn’t break the eye contact, holding it surprisingly strong. “Oh, is that a burst vein?” </p><p>Hannibal gave a light chuckle with a nod of his head, once more taken aback as the man stepped a little closer, a little bit further into Hannibal’s personal space than even Jack Crawford dared to enter. Will’s voice was low. A whisper that held a hint of a southern drawl to it that Hannibal hadn’t caught before. </p><p>“So, yeah. I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.”</p><p>For once in his very long life, Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure what to say back to that. What was he meant to say to a man who was clearly unstable, who would absolutely have to be rubber stamped to move into field work because no sane physician would pass him, and who kept an ice chip the size of a glacier on his shoulder? Before Hannibal had the chance to figure it out, Will was turning back around to his boss. </p><p>“Jack?"</p><p>“Yes?” Jack’s deep voice answered, sounding as if he had been pulled from being trapped deeply in a book. </p><p>“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind,” Hannibal mused aloud. Will paused in his step back towards Jack, shoulders hunched, but he didn’t turn back around. ‘Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.” Something tense pressed into Will’s back, straightening the man a little more as Hannibal’s observations pressed on into the air between them. “No forts in the bone area of your skull for things you love.” </p><p>Will turned around, anger clear on his features that badly needed a shave. “Whose profile are you working on?” he demanded in a low voice before frantically turning back to Jack. “Whose profile is he working on?” </p><p>“I’m sorry Will.” Hannibal adjusted his coat to give his hands something to do as if this were a normal, everyday conversation. He had stuck a cord with the man and this was in no way getting Hannibal any closer to his goal of seeing Julie Greene in all of her glory and he had to fix it. “Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.” </p><p>It was starting to make a bit more sense now. The man was feeding off of the emotions around him. Any normal person wouldn’t be so tense, even if they were at a crime scene. Everyone else around them was working just fine. Will was the only one having issues and Hannibal was certain he had finally placed why Jack found him so <em> gifted </em>. </p><p>“Please,” Will begged, something slightly desperate in his voice. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.” His voice once more dropped to that hissing whisper from earlier and Hannibal’s brow rose curiously at the accent that once more became present. “You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” </p><p>“Will,” Jack warned.</p><p>“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Will cleared his throat and turned away from the both of them. “I believe I am more needed inside of the building than freezing my ass off outside.” His footsteps pulled him away and towards the door and Hannibal waited at Jack’s raised hand until the doors had closed behind Will. </p><p>“Maybe we shouldn’t poke him like that, Doctor,” Jack muttered, a gloved hand rubbing at his chin as a deep breath floated away into the grey sky. “Perhaps a less, uh, direct approach.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled with a small nod, eyes focused on the door that Will had gone through. Such an interesting person. Far more interesting than a meal at his table. There would be time for that as well, Will was more than rude enough for it, but Hannibal wanted more time to pick over Will’s mind with as fascinating as it was. </p><p>“What he has is pure empathy,” Hannibal explained. “He can assume your point of view, or mine, and maybe some other points of view that scare him. It’s an uncomfortable gift, Jack.” </p><p>“Hmm...” Jack simply hummed, eyes going to the door to the concert hall as well, though he didn’t seem too concerned over the news. </p><p>“Perception’s a tool that’s pointed on both ends.” Hannibal motioned towards the doors and Jack nodded, both starting for them. “Jack, no one is going to approve him for field work the way he stands.” </p><p>Jack gave a nervous chuckle as he held the door open for Hannibal. Hannibal nodded his thanks and walked the well known path towards the doors to the concert hall where more agents were coming and going. </p><p>“I know that. Alana is my best shot at the moment. She knows Will. I was hoping that their slight acquaintance would win me some brownie points.” </p><p>“I could do it, Jack,” Hannibal offered in a hushed voice as he entered the large concert hall that was adorned with navy blue curtains and gold fixtures that caught the overhead lights that glistened like stars even during the day. A freshly polished piano shone brightly from the stage. “I would insist that he have regular weekly sessions with me as well, to make sure that he doesn’t shift any further into instability, but I can approve him for field work.”</p><p>“I can’t ask that of you,” Jack said with a small shake of his head as he pulled his gloves from his hands. “And he would never agree to such terms.” </p><p>“I’ve never known you to give up that easily on something you want,” Hannibal teased as they made their way closer to the stage, shedding themselves of their winter clothes to be draped over their arms. “You’re a stubborn man, Jack.” </p><p>“And you are insisting,” Jack pointed out. “I will see what I can do.” They came to the edge of the stage and Jack’s arm shot out to stop Hannibal from going further. “Give him a second.” Jack’s voice had lowered to whisper. “He works better alone.” </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes went to the stage to find a Will standing beside the piano, absolutely alone. Hannibal glanced around the rest of the auditorium and found it empty save for the three of them. He tipped his head to the side, looking curiously over Will in silence. The man had his eyes closed, mouth more in a frown than a straight line, head cocked to the side. </p><p>After a moment, his mouth moved forming words, but nothing came from his lips. Hannibal licked at his lips and turned curiously towards Jack who gave a small shrug and turned back to Will. The silence dragged on for a moment or two more before Jack seemed to have grown impatient and stepped closer to the stage. </p><p>“Will!” he bellowed, causing the man on the stage to jump. Will’s body shook as his eyes darted about the room as if trying to remember exactly where he was. Hannibal watched as the man’s breathing became a frantic stutter and he ran a hand through his curls before rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. “What do you have?” </p><p>“It’s him,” Will answered before lowering his hands and shoving them back into his pockets. </p><p>“The Ripper?” Jack asked curiously as he made his way onto the stage. </p><p>Hannibal followed after, just as interested. This obviously wasn’t one of Hannibal’s kills and it became far more obvious the closer Hannibal came to the piano. The lid of the grand had been removed and was nowhere insight. All of the strings had also been meticulously removed to create room. Two hundred and thirty strings cut and untangled and pulled free from their places and Hannibal was curious how long the action had taken. He had restrung his own harpsichord from time to time, but it was usually only a handful of strings and that did take several hours if it was done right. </p><p>Within the piano rested Julie’s body, something pale and preserved beautifully. No bruising, no wounds save for the ones that the killer wanted on the body and as far as Hannibal could tell, there wasn’t anything. The cause of death wouldn’t be obvious. One of the lab techs would have to determine it when the body was back in the lab. </p><p>Julie’s body was dressed in a wonderfully white gown, something flowing and fitting. Her body was suspended in a carefully poured lake of water. The level was perfectly flushed with the edge of the housing and any movement of the body would send water sloshing across the stage floor. </p><p>Several of the piano keys were smashed, cracked into pieces in an odd pattern. B, C#, D, E, F#. Only those notes, each one smashed all the way up the keyboard. It was so specific and it left Hannibal wondering about this particular kill. </p><p>Hannibal had chosen to kill her, had even thought about leaving her on this stage, but this was far more beautiful than anything that Hannibal had thought out and Hannibal held a peculiar interest as to why this kill had differed. The two before this were picture perfect what Hannibal had envisioned in his mind as if the inners of his head had been projected onto a billboard at rush hour. This was something mesmerizing and Hannibal finally understood. </p><p>The first two were to gain his attention, this one was a message. A written confession. Someone who knew Hannibal inside and out. Someone who spoke the same language of violence and art, something elegant and romantic and intimate. A simple plea. </p><p><em> I see you. See me. </em> </p><p>“No. The Butcher,” Will corrected, voice husky as if he hadn’t spoken for the last decade. “The Ripper takes body parts. She won’t be missing anything.” </p><p>“How can you tell?” Jack asked, obviously uncomfortable with the explanations that Will was providing him with, though Hannibal was more interested in what Will had to say than how he had put it together. It was easy to figure out how he knew, Hannibal had told Jack as much earlier. What Hannibal wanted to know was how much Will could actually see, how many details he could provide correctly. “What makes you say that?” </p><p>“The rest of the body is untouched. No bruising, no bleeding, no cuts. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be injured in any way, even if it could be hidden under the garments. She had to be pure,” Will muttered, body still trembling as he turned away from the body, eyes tight on the floor. </p><p>“Pure?” Jack pushed on, stepping around the piano, eyes on the woman. </p><p>“It’s a message to someone.” Will exhaled deeply. “I don’t know who to, but it’s to someone. She had to be perfect so that the message would be clear. This woman did something to upset both parties. Something unspeakable.” </p><p>“Like what?” </p><p>“She interrupted a concert,” Hannibal supplied easily, calling Jack’s attention to him. Hannibal didn’t pay much mind though. He was more interested in the idea that whoever The Baltimore Butcher was, had been in attendance of the concert that night. Maybe had been around Hannibal far more than Hannibal had been aware. Frequented the same cafe, used the same repair men, attended the same orchestral concerts. A smile pulled at Hannibal’s lips. How interesting. His mind scrambled back through each one of those moments, trying to pull together a face that had been present at all three, but he came up blank. “I was in attendance.” </p><p>“I wasn’t aware you knew the victim,” Jack grumbled. </p><p>“Neither was I,” Hannibal said with a small shrug, a movement unnatural for the man, but something the situation called for. His attention was pulled from Jack and to a pair of interested blue eyes that were on him in a moment. Eyes that Hannibal was almost certain were disbelieving, but they quickly looked away once more.  “Her phone rang in the middle of a piece. Quite rude if you ask me.”</p><p>“And what makes you think that that is the reason for her death? It seems a little petty, don’t you think?” Jack tossed out with a small shrug and a scrunched up nose. </p><p>“Not to these two,” Will answered. </p><p>“And why the display? What does it mean?” </p><p>Hannibal looked to Will to see if the man was going to answer but at a nervous shrug and a shake of his head, Hannibal offered his own. “Her ringtone was Swan Lake. She’s dressed in the white of a swan, dead in the lake after her love confessed his love to another. The notes on the keyboard are the first notes of the main theme from Tchaikovsky. I would assume that there are no marks on the body to match with the story. Odette was killed because of a spell, not because of any physical ailment.” </p><p>“She will most likely have been poisoned,” Will muttered, a hand going to his head, body swaying slightly. “Or something similar. I would run a toxicology report first thing.” </p><p>“Thank you Doctor,” Jack said with a nod to Hannibal, before his focus went to the special agent. “Will, I will be having a further discussion with you back at my office tomorrow. You can go for now.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Will grumbled, footsteps haisty as he went for the stairs at the edge of the stage, passing by Hannibal. Hannibal couldn’t help but catch the scent of a hideous aftershave on the man. Something cheap with a ship on the bottle mixed with the man’s debilitating anxiety. A sickly sweet mixture with a tone of acidity. </p><p>“Wait a moment, Will,” Jack called once more and the empath came to a halt on the stairs, eyebrows scrunched together with dislike at being called back. “Doctor Lecter has agreed to perform your psych eval.” </p><p>“No thank you,” Will answered bitterly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some lectures that I need to go over before class tomorrow.” </p><p>“Will, you can’t just not take a psych eval,” Jack shot back, leaving the piano and heading for the stairs. "That was our agreement. I let you in on cases, you take a psych eval to make sure you're stable." </p><p>"I do not-" </p><p>"I have an opening Tuesday night at 7:30," Hannibal offered, far too intrigued to let such an interesting person slip through his fingers that quickly. "We could meet at my house and I could prepare dinner for you. That might be more pleasant than the confines of an office." </p><p>There was a tense silence and Will frowned with a shake of his head. "Will it get you to lay off my back?" </p><p>"It will definitely help me sleep better at night," Jack replied and Will gave a nod, continuing down the stairs. “If you would feel more comfortable with Dr. Bloom-” </p><p>“No.” Will shook his head and looked down at his feet as one of his toes kicked at a small pebble on the steps. It clicked as it fell away. “I am not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head.”</p><p>“You’ve been seeing a lot of scenes lately. Scenes that are worse than-” </p><p>“I used to work homicide,” Wll pointed out, once more interrupting Jack mid sentence. Hannibal watched carefully as Jack’s face twisted into immediate anger before it was calmed with a deep breath and closed eyes. </p><p>“The reason you currently used to work homicide is because you didn’t have the stomach for it. You don’t have the stomach for this.” </p><p>Will’s lips dipped into a frown and he finally looked back up, but not to any one person. “Wait, so a psych eval isn’t a formality?” </p><p>“No.” There was a hint of harshness in Jack’s voice, annoyance on his features. “It’s so I can get some sleep at night. I asked you to get close, I need to know that you aren’t getting too close.”</p><p>There was a long pause as Will worked his jaw, tongue rolling over the insides of his cheeks and lips. “Therapy doesn’t work on me.” </p><p>Hannibal let out a small huff, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. Will was like a wounded animal, snapping at a helping hand and Hannibal wasn’t sure he had ever wanted so badly to reach out his hand and feel the jaws clamp down on it. </p><p>There was a hum of disagreement from Jack. “Therapy doesn’t work on you because you won’t let it.” </p><p>“And because I know all the tricks,” Will argued in a softer, but broken voice as if he knew he wasn’t going to win this battle. </p><p>“Maybe you need to unlearn some tricks,” Jack suggested. Will gave a snort of laughter with a roll of those blue eyes before continuing on his way down the stairs without another word. “Come on Will!” Jacked called after him in a groan. “I need my beauty sleep!”</p><p>"Text me the address. I'll be there at 7:30.”</p><p>Hannibal watched in silence as the curly haired man made his way up through the isles, hunching his shoulders to make himself smaller as agents once more stepped into the auditorium. </p><p>"I'm sorry," Jack quickly apologized, rubbing at the back of his neck. "He's just-" </p><p>"It's not a problem, Jack," Hannibal assured with a kind smile and a wave of his hand. "Send me his number. It's been a long while since I've been dealt a challenge." </p><p>"A challenge is one word for it," Jack chuckled with a shake of his head. </p><p>"I am not one to back away from a challenge, Jack. I'll make sure he's approved and work with him on better controlling his empathy." Hannibal lifted his coat from his arm and started to pull it back on as he made his way to the stairs on the stage. "My hypothesis is that he lets too many emotions affect him. That's why he struggles to stay calm during crime scenes. I can help put in place some barriers." </p><p>"I'll send you his number," Jack called after the doctor before he sighed, eyes heading back to the body in the tub made of a piano. "Katz!" </p>
<hr/><p>There weren’t any other bodies found between Julie Greene and Tuesday evening. All in all the week had proved rather uneventful for Hannibal. The only thing that had been of any minor inconvenience was being called the term <em> Cheese Folk </em> by a rather clingy patient that he desperately needed to give a referral to. </p><p>Hannibal had been dutiful in his work, keeping his mind as blank as he could when it came to the subject of picking victims just in case there just so happened to be such a thing as mind reading. The more he poured over the three bodies, having gained the case files from Jack to study under the guise of helping dear Will with his therapy, the more he felt eyes digging into the back of his head. A pair of carefully trained eyes that meticulously watched every movement that Hannibal made. </p><p>Tuesday came and Hannibal found himself anticipating the evening’s guest despite the less than happy single letter <em> K </em> texted back to him after the sending of his address. Dinner had been carefully selected and made. A Mr. John Paul Spencer had been kind enough to donate the pancreas used for the night’s sweetbread. </p><p>With the chardonnay opened and left to breathe on the counter, Hannibal went to answer a faint knock at the front door. He wiped his hands on his apron that was secure around his waist and pulled the door open, a warm smile on his lips that quickly dropped, the greeting falling silent as his eyes took in the man before him who might as well have been a stranger. </p><p>It was Will. It absolutely was the same man that Hannibal had met several days prior. It just wasn’t the stuttering, fidgeting man from the crime scene. This Will was someone utterly different and Hannibal found himself staring, unable to look away from him. Surprise was another one of those emotions that Hannibal didn’t often feel or let himself live in, but those Botticelli blue eyes held Hannibal in place. </p><p>They weren’t hidden behind a pair of oval frames and Hannibal had the sneaking  suspicion that Will didn’t need the glasses in the first place. They were simply there to deter people, keep them at bay. The only thing that broke up that strong blue gaze was an errant curl that swept down over his forehead, the rest having been tamed back elegantly with product. His jaw had a sharper edge to it and Hannibal realized it was due to Will having cleaned up his facial hair. </p><p>Instead of a raggy flannel, a crisp white dress shirt graced his body, the top several buttons undone with the collar opened enough to see the long expanse of the man’s pale throat. A tailored, deep blue suit had replaced the jeans and a thrift store hand-me-down jacket. Shined dress shoes of deep black stood out against the snow that was more ice now than powder. </p><p>His posture was upright, stronger. His back was straight, his shoulders back, making him look taller than he had.  He held Hannibal’s gaze easily and there was a tick of a smile in the corner of his lips. </p><p>“Good evening, Doctor. I’m sorry I’m late,” Will said, voice unwavering in its confidence, so odd in its durability. “One of my dogs decided to eat one of my couch cushions right when I was trying to walk out the door. He gets a little upset when I leave the house.” </p><p>“Hello, Will,” Hannibal answered, licking at his lips, mouth suddenly so very dry. </p><p>He cleared his throat and stepped aside to allow enough room for Will to step into his home. Will’s smile as he passed was dazzlingly bright with sharp white teeth showing. Will’s arm brushed over Hannibal’s chest as he passed and Hannibal closed his eyes with a deep breath, trying to settle the unusual picked up pace of his heart. </p><p>The breath did nothing to help as a scent that was far more pleasant than whatever aftershave Will had been wearing the day they had met, assaulted his nose. Something warm with spice with hints of vanilla and citrus. Hannibal’s brows furrowed at a scent he could recall growing up with during his years as a young adult. One of the doctors during his residency had worn it. Obsession by Calvin Klein. </p><p>“Please, call me Hannibal.” Hannibal’s voice shook more than he thought it would and he silently cursed himself as he closed the door. A good suit and cologne weren’t going to be his undoing. He wasn’t some teenager. He had built up years and years of perfect control and he wasn’t about to lose it now. </p><p>There was a light chuckle from the man behind him. “I think that maybe we should wait for dessert before we get that personable, Doctor,” Will said, voice brighter than it had been. “There’s still so much you don’t know about me.” </p><p><em> ...that I want you to know </em>, clung to the air between them. Hannibal could feel the unspoken words heavy in Will’s eyes, eyes that were no longer afraid of Hannibal. They no longer held their focus with Hannibal’s nose, they met amber head on, unperturbed. </p><p>Will licked at his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth. He glanced around the entryway and into an open door that led to Hannibal’s study. Will stepped a little closer to the door of the study, hand taking the doorframe. “You have a harpsichord?” </p><p>Hannibal stepped a little closer to look at the instrument over Will’s shoulder. “I do," Hannibal replied. “Do you play?” </p><p>There was a chuckle and Will shook his head. “Not well. I was taught the piano a bit when I was younger, but not much of it has stayed unfortunately. Some ballet by Tchaikovsky is probably the only thing I can remember and just the right hand. I was awful trying to play with both hands. I would probably snap all of the strings on your harpsichord if I tried anyways. I play too rough.” Will gave a shrug at his own judgement. There was a mute curiosity in the air as if Will had another question, but it was quickly dismissed as Will turned his attention back to Hannibal. “It smells amazing. Thank you for offering dinner.” </p><p>“You’re welcome,” Hannibal replied, clearing his desert dry throat once more before guiding Will through his home and in the direction of the kitchen. “I thought it would be more comfortable than my office, but it seems that I might have misjudged what you find comfortable and what you don’t.” </p><p>There was another small laugh from behind Hannibal. Something lazy and warm. “You’re going to have to try a little harder than that, Doctor. I believe you were present for my conversation with Jack. Therapy doesn’t work on me.” </p><p>“An intriguing notion,” Hannibal hummed, stepping into his kitchen and finally feeling a bit more in control now that the initial shock of the wolf in sheep's clothing had worn off. Hannibal stepped around the counter and snatched up a manila folder, passing it across the counter and to Will, who settled against the other side of the island. “I would not mind discussing that tonight.” </p><p>Will shook his head, lips pulled into a half smile as he opened the file and glanced over the paper he found there. “What’s this?” </p><p>“Your psychological evaluation,” Hannibal replied as he poured out two glass of chardonnay before sliding one across the counter to Will. “You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.” Hannibal raised his glass in a small toast and inhaled of the drink before he let the dry wine grace his tongue. </p><p>Will huffed, picking up the paper to look over it carefully, tongue snaking out to lick over his teeth that were still showing through his half smile. “Did you just rubber stamp me?” he asked, blue eyes flickering up to meet Hannibal’s before they returned to the paper. </p><p>“Yes.” The reply was easy, simple. Hannibal set his glass aside with a small breath before he went to the oven to check on the dish he had been preparing. “Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn’t break you and our conversations can proceed unobstructed by paperwork.” </p><p>Hannibal fetched a pair of hotpads and pulled the dish from the oven, setting it on the countertop next to two waiting plates that were already filled with a salad and some light sides. Hannibal served the dish onto the plates, pausing when Will didn’t answer. </p><p>Will closed the folder and pushed it aside, picking up his wine glass by the stem and looking boredly over the contents. He gave a loud sigh. “Jack thinks I need therapy.” </p><p>Hannibal set his work down, apron off and folded on top of the counter, plates exactly as he wanted them, and put his focus back on Will. A calm and collected Will. An at ease Will. A Will who, as far as Hannibal could tell at the  moment, didn’t need therapy. Or at least, that was how he wanted to appear for Hannibal. Hannibal knew the tricks, had had many patients in the past pretend to be something they weren’t and Hannibal had enjoyed breaking each one of them down and it would be no different with Will. He would just need to work a little harder. </p><p>“What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there,” Hannibal offered as he picked up both plates and nodded his head towards the dining room. Will gathered up both wine glasses and followed after Hannibal into the spacious blue dining room. Hannibal set the plates to the head and the right side of the large table that stretched the length of the room. He glanced back up at Will who was looking around the room curiously, taking in the fireplace on one wall and then the herb garden on the other. </p><p>“I don’t need a way out,” Will muttered, the words barely more than a breath. “I need to be seen.” Will’s face quickly turned back to a smile and he placed the two glasses of wine down at the table, taking the seat beside Hannibal’s. “This looks wonderful.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a small smile as he unfolded his linien and draped it over his lap. “Thank you, Will.” Hannibal picked up his fork and twisted it around in his hand several times as he continued to speak. “You have pomegranate and ricotta crostini. The ricotta has been whipped. A light raspberry vinaigrette over the salad and <em> Rigatoni Pajata alla Finta </em>.” Hannibal speared a cherry tomato from his salad and brought it up to inspect it, noting the way those blue eyes stayed focused completely on him. “When braised in a spicy tomato sauce, sweetbreads become tender and succulent, while ricotta adds rich creaminess and mint a refreshing, springlike accent to the pasta.” </p><p>“Sweetbreads?” Will asked in interest as he took a forkful of the pasta dish and brought it to his lips. Hannibal’s eyes tore from the tomato and watched as Will took the first bite and normally there was a satisfaction that would well up in Hannibal, but it died when Will’s eyes locked with his and Hannibal felt like all of his secrets had been spilt out across the table for Will to see. “Interesting flavor. What’s the meat?” Will’s tone was solid and sturdy, his grin betraying his voice. “I can’t quite place it.” </p><p>“Veal.” </p><p>Will took another bite and nodded thoughtfully as he chewed. “Do you know a man by the name of William Seabrook, Doctor Lecter?” he asked when he had finished the bite before reaching out to take a sip of his wine. </p><p>Hannibal gave a single nod, slowly lowering his fork to his plate, appetite gone and stomach churning unpleasantly. “He was a journalist and explorer,” Hannibal supplied, with a light smile. “A rather unusual topic over dinner, Will.” </p><p>Will shook his head. “No more unusual than a psychiatrist I’ve only ever met once and was extremely rude to, greenlighting my return to field work when he should absolutely know better than to let me back out and into the world.” Will took another bite and it only made Hannibal’s mind flip flop more between whether or not Will actually knew about him or if Will had just picked a macabre topic for dinner. If Will knew, he didn’t seem disturbed by what he was consuming. If Will knew, he was participating willingly in what Hannibal usually found as a sick twisted secret with himself. If Will knew... “The world is much safer with me behind a podium teaching, Doctor Lecter.” </p><p>Hannibal tipped his head to the side at the words that Will had chosen to use. He hadn’t used the term <em> I </em> . <em> He </em> wouldn’t be safer behind a podium in a classroom. <em> Everyone else </em> would be safer with him behind a podium in a classroom. What about him was so dangerous that he would phrase it that way? </p><p>“That wasn’t all that Seabrook was, Doctor,” Will pushed on with a small shrug as he picked up one of the crostinis. “He also practiced cannibalism.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded once more, taking to resting his arms over the table to lean closer to the man who kept Hannibal on his toes with each and every word out of his mouth. “And what has made you bring up this particular line of conversation?” Hannibal didn’t have to ask. He knew. He knew exactly the words that would come from Will’s lips and he held his breath as he waited for them. </p><p>“Seabrook stated that human flesh closely resembled veal. I just thought that it was an interesting comparison is all.” </p><p>The toasted bread crunched as Will bit into it, eyes fluttering shut with a delighted little smile. Hannibal tipped his head to the side, observing Will’s reactions carefully. Once more, the normal satisfaction that came with people enjoying his cooking died somewhere in his chest as Hannibal slowly put together just what he was going to have to do with Will if this conversation kept going in this direction. Only Jack knew that Will had this appointment. It wouldn’t be hard to tell the FBI agent that Will had simply never shown up for his appointment. Jack would buy that story with no problems whatsoever. </p><p>“Interesting?” Hannibal pushed carefully. He hadn’t wanted to lose his new play thing quite so quickly, but this toy was far more dangerous than Hannibal had first anticipated and he was finding it difficult to keep some sort of semblance of control over the evening, even if his demeanor hadn’t changed. </p><p>“This really is amazing, Doctor Lecter,” Will praised, his smile still ever present and ever bright. “Is this how you eat all of the time?” </p><p>“Sometimes I have left overs.” </p><p>Will snorted out his laughter and set the rest of the crostini back onto his plate. He wiped his hands off on his napkin before pushing his plate aside and mirroring Hannibal’s actions of letting his forearms drape over the table so he could lean over and meet Hannibal’s maroon eyes. </p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t know much about cooking. I can cook fish decently. I like to catch my own. It’s relaxing.” </p><p>Hannibal could feel some of the tension in his back melt away at the small shift in conversation. Maybe it had just been an unfortunate choice of topic and Hannibal was grateful that that was the case because now he would have more time to dissect his new project. A project that had finally let a piece of himself slip out. </p><p>“You enjoy fishing?” Hannibal questioned, letting an ease come back to his words. </p><p>Will gave a small, thoughtful shrug, biting at his bottom lip. “Yeah. It helps me clear my mind. It’s been a coping mechanism since I was little. Put my head back. Close my eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream.” </p><p>“Did your father teach you to fish?” </p><p>That bright, endearing, toothy smile split over Will’s lips once more and he tutted. “That’s some lazy physiatry, Doctor Lecter.” Will inhaled with a hiss through his teeth. “Low-hanging fruit.” </p><p>“I suspect that fruit is on a high branch,” Hannibal answered back, enjoying this new face of Will Graham. Hannibal had been eager to crack through the anxiety ridden man that he had met earlier, but he couldn’t deny there was something just as intriguing about this facet of Will. “Very difficult to reach.” </p><p>Will gave a sigh, his smile dropping slightly. “There’s something so foreign about family...” Will shook his head. “Like an ill-fitting suit. I never connected to the concept.” </p><p>“You had a poor upbringing?” </p><p>Will chewed on his tongue. “In more ways than one you could say, but I’m not much in the mood to talk about my family, Doctor.” </p><p>Hannibal’s lips pursed at the words and he sat back in his chair. “What would you like to talk about then?” </p><p>“There’s a reason that I agreed to come over tonight,” Will replied, once more mirroring Hannibal’s actions and sitting back in his own chair. </p><p>“Oh?” Hannibal pressed, brows raised in curiosity. </p><p>“I am trying to...” Will tipped his head from side to side, chewing on several words before finally speaking. “Discern if you are who I thought you were.” </p><p>“Thought I was?” Hannibal questioned in a careful voice. The scales were slowly tipping back in a bad direction and Hannibal inhaled deeply, mind once more contemplating the best way to immobilize Will if the need arose. “Might I inquire what it is that you think I am?” </p><p>A smile twisted its way over Will’s lips, something warped and depraved. Will sat up once more, reaching out for his fork, taking another bite of the pasta. “I think you’re like me,” he finally said after finishing his bite, this new smile stained over his lips. “And I want to be seen.” </p><p>“There’s a reason I’m asking about your family, Will.” Hannibal reached out for his wine and his fingers carefully brought the glass to his lips. Will shook his head and Hannibal lowered the glass before he could drink more of his wine. He gave a nod in understanding, setting his glass aside. “How do you want to be seen Will?” </p><p>“Strictly by you,” Will answered as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. Hannibal exhaled deeply, a sharp boredom cutting it. Will was one of those people. He had probably seen Hannibal on the street or maybe read one of his medical journals and had fallen head over heels. Hannibal had dealt with similar patients in the past and he found a deep disappointment setting in at the idea that he was going to have to cut off all contact with Will because of the type of person Will was shaping out to be. “I don’t think you’re quite understanding, Doctor.” </p><p>“Enlighten me,” Hannibal said blandly, eyes wandering the room in search of something more entertaining than the want of a restraining order. </p><p>“I never answered your earlier question.” Will took another bite, finishing off the rigatoni. Hannibal waited patiently for the man to continue. “You asked what was so interesting about the concept of human flesh tasting like veal.” </p><p>“Ok, Will. I’ll play.” Hannibal kept his tone bored, no longer in the mood. “What do you find so interesting about the concept of human flesh tasting like veal?” </p><p>“I find it interesting because...” Will drawled, that rich southern accent that he kept so well hidden leaking through his words. “I’ve had veal before and it did not taste like that. Tell me, Doctor Lecter. Do all of your meals contain a protein that no one can quite place, but they just accept what you say it is? The rabbit should have hopped faster. The lamb was rather chatty. Do people know what it is that you serve at your table?” </p><p>Hannibal’s gaze narrowed and locked onto a smug inquisitiveness. “I have no idea what it is you’re trying to get me to admit, Will. And whatever it is, you are way off the mark. Our hour is up. If you would let me show you out.” </p><p>“Please,” Will said quickly, getting to his feet, hand out to stop Hannibal from rising from his chair. “I can show myself out. You obviously aren’t what I thought you were. It was a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Lecter.” Will gave Hannibal that once more dazzling smile that held a decent amount of disappointment in it. “And don’t worry about my psych eval. I’m sure I can play Doctor Bloom well enough to pass me.” </p><p>Will set his napkin on the table and turned to head for the door, but Hannibal found himself sitting upright and unable to stop the curiosity that now tugged at his chest. “Wait.” Will slowly turned back to the table at the request, brow rose in question under that one unruly curl. “What exactly do you think I am?” </p><p>“We don’t have to play this game anymore, Doctor,” Will assured, once more turning away from Hannibal. “My dogs need me to let them outside before they chew up more of my couch pillows. Have a good rest of your night.” </p><p>“Are you The Butcher?” </p><p>The man’s body froze, but his back stayed to Hannibal. Will was silent and Hannibal rose from his chair, mentally hitting himself for not being able to see the connections sooner. How had he not noticed? How had he not placed Will in his memories? He was there, through all of them. He was eating a bagel at the coffee shop, on his laptop in a far off corner to not be bothered by anyone. He was walking by outside of Hannibal’s office window and had stopped to glance into the window at a rather loud, one sided conversation that Hannibal was having on the phone with a repairman that wouldn’t answer. He was dressed in a stunning blue tux that brought out the color of those blue eyes, sitting below Hannibal in a cheaper seat and not in a box at a concert that a cell phone interrupted. </p><p>“You never answered my message,”  Will finally said, slowly turning around to face Hannibal who took a swift step back at their closeness. “I wasn’t sure if you understood it. I worked so hard on that last one. It took me hours. I didn’t realize that piano strings were that sharp when you cut them.” Hannibal’s gaze dropped down to Will’s bandaged fingers. “But that was my design.” </p><p>The questions that had been eating at Hannibal all week, him dying to know exactly how The Butcher had peered inside of his own carefully guarded head, finally made sense. Jack had been right. Will was a rare gift. Something special and Hannibal absolutely wasn’t about to let him go. Not now. Not when Will was the first one to see Hannibal for what he was and Will wasn’t afraid of it. Quite the opposite. </p><p>“How long have you known?” Hannibal asked after a moment’s silence. There was a hint of surprise in Will’s expression. “How did you figure it out?” </p><p>“I followed you one night.” Will shrunk back slightly and Hannibal tipped his head to the side, wishing he understood why Will was now suddenly shy. “Out of town. To a lonely road.” Will’s voice was small, reverent. “To a bus yard.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, heart sinking in his chest. They were too tangled up in this now. Hannibal had to take care of Will. Will would never leave this house again and it was a shame really. Will was a beautiful creature, but Hannibal couldn’t risk it. </p><p>“You’re reckless, Will,” Hannibal scolded. </p><p>Will’s body snapped back up into its confident state, eyes wide with admiration. “I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw you do and do well, Mr. Chesapeake Ripper.” There was a small growl from Hannibal at the name, but Will didn’t seem to care. “My recklessness shouldn’t concern you. I can take care of myself. These weren’t my first, Doctor Lecter. Not by a long shot. And I wouldn't dare lead them to you. Not when I find you so interesting.” </p><p>“It concerns me because you won’t be drawing attention just to yourself,” Hannibal shot back, voice level and calm despite how badly his fingers were itching for that perfect throat to turn a deep blue. “Jack already sees the similarities between our kills.” </p><p>“I just wanted someone to see me,” Will pressed on, something nearly desperate in his voice. “Someone who can understand me, who thinks like I do and can see the world and people in it the way I do.” </p><p>Hannibal licked over his bottom lip, not missing the way that blue eyes followed the movement. “I know exactly how you feel,” Hannibal finally settled on and something twisted inside of Hannibal’s chest at the way that Will’s smile came back to his face. “Shall we continue this conversation another time? You and I have a decent amount to discuss.” </p><p>“Friday,” Will said simply, stepping a little closer to Hannibal. “7:30, my house. I’ll cook and you can bring dessert.” Will pushed up on his toes and pressed a delicate kiss to the corner of Hannibal’s lips, and Hannibal couldn’t help but remember somewhere deep in the back of his mind he had heard that fortune favors the bold. Hannibal turned his head just slightly to return the affection, a gentle sliding and delicate touch of lips. “Don’t be late, Hannibal,” Will whispered before pulling from Hannibal and leaving the room for the kitchen to snatch up his paperwork. “I’ll text you the address!” </p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“It is me. I am his madness. For years he's been looking for something to put his madness into. And he found me.”<br/>― John Fowles, The Collector</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, here's chapter two. All of you begged for it. I honestly have no idea where this story is going or what is going to happen with it or when the next update will be. I really do have another Hannigram fic that I was planning of posting fairly soon when I finally finished it and I really need to finish it. Also, this hasn't been betaed, so spelling errors might be a constant. But I hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                      </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>“It is me. I am his madness. For years he's been looking for something to put his madness into. And he found me.”</p><p>― <b>John Fowles, The Collector</b></p>
<hr/><p>This was a dangerous game he was playing, but there was something in his system that wouldn’t let him be. It was a tick that he had been able to find control over through most of his normal days by cleaning his house meticulously or straightening his office. But neither of those would suffice, not when the pictures of Princess Odette resting in her lake in a piano raptured his mind. </p><p>He could barely focus on his psychiatric work as an empath’s words continued to swirl through his head on repeat. </p><p>
  <em> “You never answered my message.”  </em>
</p><p>Will hadn’t sounded or looked hurt by the lack of participation on Hannibal’s part, but with the two sides of Will that Hannibal had seen, he wasn’t exactly sure if he could place what was going on in Will’s head in the slightest. </p><p>
  <em> “I wasn’t sure if you understood it. I worked so hard on that last one. It took me hours. I didn’t realize that piano strings were that sharp when you cut them.” </em>
</p><p>Both faces that Will had presented to Hannibal had been carefully stitched together and Hannibal wasn’t sure if he could believe either one. The unconfident, spineless teacher with a mental disorder was most certainly who Will had crafted for the outside world. Someone that would be left alone. Someone that people would avoid. Someone that no one would look twice at. </p><p>The cunning, vibrant man that had eaten dinner with Hannibal had to hold as much truth to it as the man the outside world saw. The problem with a disguise was the fact that no matter how hard one tried to change who they were, the disguise would always be a self portrait. Hannibal was just having trouble trying to pin down which parts of Will were the real ones and which were fake and between the two sides it was proving impossible. </p><p>There were mental instabilities there, that much Hannibal was certain of. The autism couldn’t be missed, despite how subtle it was. Will was probably more around the line of aspergers if Hannibal had to guess where on the spectrum Will landed. Will was able to function decently in public, though sensory overload probably played a big part in why the man was so rude. With the empathy disorder added to the mix, Hannibal could understand the want to keep as low of a profile as possible. There would be a lot happening in Will’s brain all at once and that only made Hannibal want to tinker with the man a little more. </p><p>
  <em> “But that was my design.”  </em>
</p><p>And this was Hannibal’s. A body left in answer to Will’s. Something to hopefully show the multifaceted man that there was something to talk about and work towards if fate had lined up the pieces to fall perfectly. </p><p>This kill had been one that Hannibal had been planning for a while, a recipe already picked and ready, but plans had changed slightly and Hannibal couldn’t say he was much put off by it. He worked diligently to make sure each aspect was as perfect as was possible. Each bruise and cut was made with only the intention of creating something beautiful, something to possibly stand up against dear Will’s Swan Lake. Something akin to the oil paintings of Odilon Redon or Vincent van Gogh. </p><p>When the call came early that next morning, Hannibal was not at all in the least bit surprised. A body found in a park, an art display that could have only come from one of two people and that was enough to send Jack needing someone to supervise a certain, unstable Will Graham. </p><p>Hannibal had purposefully left his schedule open to accommodate such a phone call, despite the small fight he put up with Jack about how he couldn’t be present for all crime scenes Will was involved in because it just wasn’t possible to maintain his own medical practice while running about the state of Maryland. </p><p>Hannibal parked his bentley and glanced over the scene that awaited him. It was a shame that his hard work was always roped off by offending yellow plastic and wooden police barricades. It was a shame that the people who gathered around had to admire his work from so far away, but the person that Hannibal had intended the work for would be encouraged to see it up close and that was all that truly mattered.</p><p>Hannibal stepped from his car and wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his throat to try to keep out some of the bitter cold of the morning as his breath floated away deadly through the air. Despite how cold it was, there was no snow on the ground. Hannibal had picked this park for that reason. His footprints would be nowhere and now with how close people had gotten to his work, even if there had been any shoe prints left in the mud or frost, they would have all been carelessly wiped away by agents doing their jobs in a hurried attempt to get out of the cold. </p><p>Hannibal stopped at the police line, eyes catching a poorly dressed Will making his way towards the crime scene. Curls were set in an unmanageable halo around his head and those blue eyes that had been so full of life just nights ago were dark. Deep purple had sunken Will’s eyes and if Hannibal had to guess, he would say that the man hadn’t been sleeping. His face was no longer cleanly kempt, hair having grown back into messy scruff. </p><p>His hand-me-down coat was once more over another plaid button down, both not suitable for the weather. Jeans once more tattered and a mess, mud down the legs and what looked like a paw print on one cuff. He must have been walking his dogs before he came to work. </p><p>“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal greeted warmly. The man’s movement forward stopped and he looked up from where he had been watching his foot falls carefully, something so utterly exhausted over his features, gaunt and pale. His lips picked up in the smallest hint of a smile before they dropped and he ducked under the yellow tape. Hannibal followed after, steps a bit larger to catch up with the man. “You look ill.” </p><p>“How kind of you to notice.” </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“Nightmares,” Will whispered with a small shrug, shivering as he shoved his still bandaged hands into his jean pockets, shoulders hunching in an attempt to stay warm. “Didn’t sleep much last night. I told you that my thoughts weren’t tasty.” </p><p>Hannibal stopped for a moment to regard the man with brows furrowed. What could possibly be going through Will’s mind that was enough to cause the man so much disturbance that he couldn’t sleep? Someone who could be cruel and justice serving couldn’t possibly be afraid of anything, could he? </p><p>It was possible though. There were nights, few and far between as they were, where Hannibal would wake up in his own sweat, gasping for air like his life depended on it. Those nights were ones where he relieved dark memories that had begun to twist and morph into something more to the point where Hannibal honestly wasn’t sure what was real and what was his imagination anymore. </p><p>“And what plagues your dreams, Will?” </p><p>The smile was a little brighter from the man as he cautiously met Hannibal’s eyes. “You can pick my brain when I’m more awake at dinner tonight. Remember, don’t be late. It’s rude.” Anxiety quickly took over that dazzling smile. It twisted and died at a booming voice and a large hand clapped on Will’s shoulder. “Morning Jack.” </p><p>“Good morning,” Jack replied with a deep breath out into the morning air. “Shall we see what gifts have been graced to us today?” </p><p>“You sound like you’re nearly excited,” Hannibal remarked as he followed the path the agent led, hand still tight on Will’s shoulder despite the way that Will was desperately trying to shrug the man off of him. </p><p>“Jack, I was cleared for work,” Will grumbled as he finally freed himself. “And I agreed to seeing him weekly. Was it really necessary to call Doctor Lecter?” </p><p>“Until I am satisfied with your mental state, then Doctor Lecter will continue to join us,” Jack rebutted, voice firm. Hannibal opened his mouth to object, but Will pressed on sharply. </p><p>“You can’t ask the man to push aside his schedule to babysit me. I’m not a child.” </p><p>“You’re mentally-” </p><p>“I’m perfectly stable,” Will argued. “If Doctor Lecter’s paperwork didn’t prove that, then why the hell am I here? I have classes that I need to be teaching. I can’t keep asking Alana to cover them for me. It’s not fair.” </p><p>“Will, can you not just accept the fact that I have your mental health in my best interest?” Jack tried once more with a tired sigh and Hannibal had to assume that this was how most conversations between the two went. Both were defensive and angry at the other, but both used each other for their own personal gains. </p><p>Will gave a sardonic laugh and shook his head. “You have my mental health- yeah.” There was another snort of laughter. “Right. You have my mental health about as in your best interest as-” </p><p>“Hey, pretty boy!” a new voice called from somewhere closer to the crime scene. "How about you come give me a hand?" </p><p>A wave of relief came from Will who immediately pulled himself from Jack's presence and headed towards an Asian woman with beautifully long dark hair and an odd, toothy smile that was somehow entirely sarcastic, but warm and welcoming at the same time. </p><p>"I might run out of sorrys if I have to keep apologizing," Jack grumbled in a voice low enough that only Hannibal could hear. </p><p>Hannibal returned the sentiment with a small smile. "It's quite alright. Our dinner the other night was more than revealing. I can forgive bad coping mechanisms and help develop better ones." </p><p>"Coping mechanisms?" Jack asked curiously, clasping his hands behind his back. "Will being upset is a coping mechanism?" Hannibal opened his mouth to reply, only once more to be cut off. "Revealing?" A smile spilt over Jack's lips. "He opened up to you?" </p><p>"Not in the slightest." Hannibal pushed forward, the eagerness in his body more than making his legs ache to move. "It takes time for someone like Will to open up. He's built a lot of walls to protect himself. He's had to survive through his life and as such, he's constantly on his guard. Give him time." </p><p>"I don't have time, Doctor," Jack said, coming to stop at the edge of the scene, in full view but in no way stepping closer. Jack's eyes flickered over the body and Hannibal could see the small flinch of discomfort across the man's face before it was smoothed away. "I need him now." </p><p>"Then you will need to work with what you have." Hannibal stepped a little closer, slowly walking across the front of his own display before he came to stand beside Will. The man still looked a little annoyed, but more relaxed as the woman continued to chat off his ear, flipping through photos on her camera. "Mind introducing me?" </p><p>Will blinked several times, being pulled from whatever thoughts he had hidden himself away in and he gave a nod. "Bev, I'd like you to meet Doctor Lecter. Doctor Lecter, this is Agent Beverly Katz. She's a lab tech." </p><p>"And the secretary, the coffee runner and at the moment, the photographer." Beverly's smile was glowing, taking the chill out of the air. Her dark eyes glittered as they met Hannibal, her hand out held. Hannibal returned the grip. "Nice to meet you." </p><p>"You as well, Miss. Katz." </p><p>"Bev is fine," the woman assured before turning all of her attention back to Will. "You didn't tell me he was hot." </p><p>"Bev," Will hissed, elbowing her sharply in the ribs, though it did nothing to sway the woman. Hannibal grinned, looking over Will who had an adorable flush reaching his hairline. "Ignore her," Will instructed, tone bitter and begging for Beverly to drop the new line of conversation. </p><p>"I'm not apologizing." Beverly laughed. "No wonder you wouldn't stop talking about dinner. I would be excited for a dinner date if I were meeting with Dr. Hotass too."</p><p>"Bev!" Will groaned, a hand rubbing over his face and under his glasses. "Shut up." </p><p>"I am finding myself quite enjoying this line of conversation," Hannibal teased, only causing Beverly to laugh. "You told her about our dinner appointment?" </p><p>"I'm regretting it now," Will answered darkly.  </p><p>"Are we working hard or hardly working?!" a booming voice demanded and much to Hannibal's interest, both Will and Beverly seemed to shrink at the words and immediately fell silent. Beverly turned away to two other men to begin speaking to them and a heaviness encompassed Will as he turned back to the body. "Clear the area!" Jack ordered and Hannibal watched as everyone wandered their way to the outskirts of the park to allow Will room to work. </p><p>"Please don't do anything to Bev," Will whispered to Hannibal. "She doesn't mean anything by it." </p><p>"On the contrary, Will, I find Miss Katz rather intriguing. I may need to seek out a private conversation with the woman," Hannibal said in as light a voice as he could, hoping to bring some of that ease back to Will that Beverly had taken with her. </p><p>"Please don't," Will whispered, none of that fire from the night before returning in the slightest. Whoever or whatever Will was playing now, he was more than dedicated.  Will turned away from Hannibal, but stopped when Hannibal's hand reached out to take his shoulder. Will tensed under the touch and Hannibal knew he was in no way helping Will's sensory over stimulation. </p><p>"Will," Hannibal said softly as he stepped closer to the man who was shrinking smaller and smaller. "Take special care with this scene. Don't overwhelm yourself." Will's head snapped up and Hannibal was surprised to see blue meet him head-on. The gaze was surprised. "There is time for you to process it in more detail over dinner if needs be." </p><p>Will gave a small nod and Hannibal stepped back to walk over and be beside Jack to let Will work. Jack looked rather impatient and was throwing quiet threats towards Beverly and the two men beside her. One with dark hair and about the same age as Beverly, the other older with grey hair. They stood close together and Hannibal didn't miss the way the older's hand clutched to the sleeve of the younger man's windbreaker. </p><p>Hannibal's eyes returned to his work, finally able to take it in in the daylight. Work that had taken him months to prepare and he hoped that Will noticed the effort put forth. It might not have been meant for such a thing in the beginning, but much like the display itself, it had transformed into something special. </p><p>A shadow box had been carefully crafted from mahogany, the dark wood beautiful against the grey sky that promised snow. Behind the glass wall were butterflies. Each one carefully pinned and displayed. That had taken Hannibal longer than working the body had. Each butterfly's body was far more delicate than Hannibal had initially anticipated and he would hate to admit how many of them cracked apart or turned to dust in his hands while he had been working. </p><p>Within the carefully placed Monarchs was a Mr. Caleb Francesco. While shopping, Hannibal had run across the man in the wine section of the store. A young child, his son, had accidently knocked over a decently priced wine bottle and sent the red across the floor. Hannibal wouldn't have put much thought to it until Caleb raised a hand and slapped the boy who was no more than four or five. </p><p>Losing a father would be difficult, Hannibal knew better than most, but the child would be better off without the man in his life. It was a coward who would raise a hand against a child and, Hannibal was sure, his wife. </p><p>Caleb was wrapped up in a white fabric, head to toe like a chrysalis. He would need to be unwrapped before anyone knew who he was, surprisingly left untouched, the scene far less processed than Hannibal thought it would be. He was suspended by a piece of polished, glittering rebar, pinned to the shadowbox just as the Monarchs were around him. He had been drained of blood, the white fabric pristine. </p><p>“What do you make of this?” Jack whispered over to Hannibal who turned his head just enough to regard Jack before his eyes went to Will who had a hand reached out towards the glass, fingers twitching where they were suspended in the air. “What do you see?” </p><p>Hannibal’s lips pursed in thought for a moment before he finally had a good enough answer to throw to Jack. </p><p>“I think this is the Ripper,” Hannibal supplied, watching the way the name sent a glint through Jack's eyes. “The rebar is positioned between the lungs, through the heart precisely if I had to guess. Medical training would be important for such a feat.” Hannibal didn’t say anymore. It would be enough to send Jack down a million rabbit holes. A million rabbit holes that would only lead to potions and caterpillars, cats and tea parties. </p><p>“Why the heart?” Jack questioned. </p><p>“I think that Will might need to supply the answer to that Jack. I couldn’t possibly know.” Hannibal once more tightened his scarf to try to stave off some of the cold and his eyes watched over Will curiously. </p><p>How much of the boy was a show that he put on and how much of him was real? Because if Will truly was a petrified, shaking mess then Hannibal wanted to step in when Will was his most vulnerable and pull at the carefully strung, overly taut strings to unravel the man. But petrified and shaking wasn’t what he found when Will left his mind and returned to the world. Instead he found bright blue eyes staring at him in shock before tears lined them. </p><p>“Will?” Jack asked in disbelief, stepping closer to the man, but Will’s eyes didn’t for a moment leave Hannibal’s gently smiling gaze. So Will did see. Will understood. Hannibal had hoped as much but didn’t dare push his luck further than this. “What did you see Will? Was it the Butcher?” </p><p>Will shook his head before letting it tip to the side while a silent tear dropped down his cheek. “This is the Ripper. The body will be missing something, but it won’t be noticeable at first. The corpse isn’t bloody, so I’m assuming the body was drained. That might be what was taken this time. He wanted this kill pure, but he can’t deviate from his signature.” </p><p>“Pure,” Jack mused. “So The Ripper is answering the Butcher?” </p><p>“It appears that way.” Will wiped at his cheek and straightened himself up a little more.</p><p>“Is that who The Butcher is trying to gain attention from?” Jack pressed, a little shock over his features at Will’s shrug as Will turned away. “What about the butterflies?” </p><p>Will stopped, brows furrowed and he hunched up once more at a frozen breeze that blew through the air. He shivered and turned up his coat collar before turning back to Jack. “Butterflies can symbolize a multitude of things, Jack,” Will explained, adjusting his glasses. “But the most obvious is transformation usually of the spiritual sense, a rebirth. Both Catholic and Christian religions have strong ties to butterflies but you can find their mentionings in Native American texts as well as celebrations like <em>Dia de los Muerto</em>s.”</p><p>“A spiritual transformation?” Jack’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s not what they’re trying to say.” </p><p>“I don’t know what you want  me to say exactly here Jack. Unless you want me to go dig through butterfly lore then-”</p><p>“I know about butterflies!” the greying man from the side piped up with a happy little smile that quickly faded at Jack’s cold gaze. Hannibal grinned, listening curiously. </p><p>“Of course you know about butterflies,” the younger, darker haired man said cynically with a roll of his eyes. “The same way you know all of the creepy facts about bees.” </p><p>“Bees are wonderful little creatures and you know it!” the older argued back. </p><p>“Price! Zeller!” Jack yelled, obviously not enjoying the banter between the two men. </p><p>“Butterflies symbolize a lot of things like Will said, but something that most people seem to skip over is the fact that butterflies can represent love,” the older said, shooting the younger a dark look that the younger immediately returned. “Releasing butterflies at the end of weddings is supposed to signify love and a prosperous marriage.” </p><p>“They’re courting each other?” Bev asked with a twisted little smile. “And I thought that my forty year old uncle dating my babysitter was weird.” </p><p>“How old was your babysitter?” the dark hair man asked, everyone looking over at Beverly with the same questioning look. </p><p>She simply gave a shrug and snapped a picture of Zeller and Price’s faces before answering through their complaints. “Bertha was seventy-two.” Beverly gave a wicked grin at the moans and complaints from the two men until Jack cleared his throat, causing the group to fall silent again. </p><p>“Zeller, I need a list of places where you can find butterflies for purchase in the middle of goddamn winter,” Jack pressed on. Hannibal mentally tagged the name onto the dark hair man who nodded and walked away from the group. Price must have been the older man. “Price, I need to know who this man is. I need his name, profession, age, family.” </p><p>“Right,” Price muttered, pushing past the group to head towards the massive shadow box. </p><p>“Bev,” Jack continued, calling the woman’s attention to him. “I need all of the files that we have on The Butcher and anything similar. His work is advanced for a first time killer. I want anything that he could have possibly done in the past.” </p><p>“We haven’t found an M.O. or signature yet,” Beverly pointed out with a huff of air and Hannibal stole a glance over at Will who’s expression was still the unsettled surprise from earlier. “The only way we have the three that we have now is because Will says it’s him.” Beverly pointed to Will and Hannibal tipped his head curiously as his mind ran over everything that Will had said over dinner a few nights previous. He had said that these weren’t his first, not by a long shot. How many others were there? And if there were as many as that phrase seemed to suggest, then what was Will doing to make sure that each one of his kills was kept separated? “I don’t even think that’s enough to go on, no offense.” </p><p>Will shook his head, face scrunching up. “None taken,” Will muttered, starting away from the body once more and to the line of cars. “I need a ride back to the school. I have classes this afternoon.” </p><p>“We aren’t done here yet Will,” Jack grumbled. “You’ve given me nothing to go on.”</p><p>“Nothing-!” Will inhaled sharply and turned, angry, voce snapping. “How many butterfly farms do you think have Monarchs during the winter? How many butterfly farms do you think there are in Maryland? That is more than enough to narrow it down. Look for people buying a shit ton of Monarchs with cash. That should be more than enough to get a decent lead on. Does it really take someone like me to point you in that direction?” </p><p>“Will-” </p><p>“Jack,” Hannibal interrupted kindly, stepping forward. “I think Will has done more than enough for today.” Will’s eyes were disbelieving when he met Hannibal’s gaze. “He is unwell. He’s under rested, has work to do and is dressed nowhere near warm enough to stay out in the cold. I will drive him back to the academy.” </p><p>“I don’t fucking need your help,” Will hissed, pushing past Hannibal. “And I’m not a child. I know how to dress for the winter.” </p><p>“Your teeth have been chattering for the last twenty minutes,” Hannibal pointed out, ignoring the jab from Will. “Jack, please allow Will some time to gather himself before you drag him away to another crime scene. He needs time to recover.” </p><p>“I’m fucking fine!” Will shouted over his shoulder and Hannibal gave a loud sigh that Jack seemed to reciprocate. </p><p>“It was nice to meet you, Miss Katz,” Hannibal said with a smile in her direction. </p><p>Beverly grinned. “You too, Dr. Hotass.” </p><p>Jack coughed as if choking on air and Hannibal could only grin as he nodded his departure and went after the empath who was already at the yellow tape. Will was waiting patiently at the tape with arms folded, breath hanging deadly in the air as he shivered. </p><p>“Let’s get you in the car,” Hannibal said, motioning Will towards his bentley. “We’ll get the heater going. Have you eaten yet this morning?” </p><p>“No,” Will whispered with a shake of his head. “Are you asking me out?” </p><p>“Would coffee disagree with you?” Hannibal watched as a small smile came to Will’s face. Will once more shook his head and Hannibal lifted up the tape line to allow Will to step under it. “Sleep and a balanced diet will do wonders for your-”</p><p>“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Will interrupted, letting Hannibal unlock the car doors before he pulled the passenger side open. "Sometimes it's a lot to process." Hannibal climbed into the car, starting it and making sure the heater was on. Will settled into the passenger seat, seatbelt on and hands held tightly between his thighs in an attempt to warm them. "And with you..." Will trailed off and Hannibal gave a small smile as he carefully pulled from the crime scene. "Your voice has always been loud." </p><p>"Is that why you searched me out?" Hannibal asked curiously, getting out onto the main road. </p><p>"Not the only reason," Will whispered, his hands pulling from his lap so he could lean over and hide his face in them. "Please..." He inhaled deeply with a sigh. "Everything is so loud." </p><p>"Have you ever tried breathing exercises?" Hannibal offered as he glanced over at a still shivering Will. Hannibal had always considered his car to have a rather marvelous heater that took no time to warm his car, but at the moment the heat seemed so far away and he felt a little guilty that he couldn't do more to help Will at the moment. "And maybe a better coat?" </p><p>There was a small laugh from Will who kept his face firmly hidden. "I'm never outside this long to warrant a warmer coat. And I'm sure I've tried all of the breathing exercises in the whole world. You're not my first psychiatrist, Doctor. I've been dragged to doctors and specialists all my life. None of them have been able to help and I don't mean to sound rude, but I doubt you would be able to either." </p><p>Hannibal thought over the words carefully, grateful now that the car was finally starting to warm and Will wouldn't be chattering on his leather seats. "There is something you should know about me before we take this any further, Will," he said, slowing down as he reached the outskirts of a lovely little town between the park and his home. Will finally glanced up from his hands, interest shining in those blue eyes that belonged to Botticelli. "I am a stubborn man and do not back down from challenges." </p><p>"I’ve been told I’m a handful.” </p><p>“You’re not my first difficult patient either, Will.” </p><p>"Pull over," Will muttered, eyes darting out of the windshield for a moment to take in their surroundings before returning to Hannibal. "Now." </p><p>"We're nearly at the cafe. Patience dear Will," Hannibal chided in a gentle voice. Will nodded without another word, eyes focused ahead of them while Hannibal made his way down Main Street where several brave souls were walking around in the cold and the snow that was starting to fall in large flakes. "This cafe that uses a particular roasted blend that I've never found anywhere else. And I promise it is far better than anything Miss Josephine Langlais could make." </p><p>Will blushed at the words and gave a small nod. Hannibal pulled up beside that cafe, the only shop bustling with life. Coffee and baked goods to keep everyone warm and happy while battling the cold. With the car in park, Hannibal turned to Will who had a jittery energy radiating off of him. His hands were clasped nervously, fingers wringing themselves out, a knee bouncing. </p><p>Hannibal frowned. "If this is not to your liking, we can-" Before Hannibal could finish, the scent of after shave with a ship in the bottle grew stronger as a mouth met his own. The lips weren't shy this time. Quite the opposite. Hands clutched the sides of his face as if they thought he would pull away as Will kissed him hard. </p><p>"Where?" Will gasped out before kissing Hannibal again. Hannibal did his best to follow Will's words but found his mind oddly blank. Kissing was not something new to the man, but there was something different in the way that Will poured emotions into his that Hannibal had never experienced before and it left him staggering. "Where the fuck did you find butterflies in the dead of winter?" </p><p>"I take it you approve?" Hannibal muttered out, hands gripping the center console for support as Will pushed a little closer as if he wanted to abandon his own seat and settle into Hannibal's. </p><p>There was a nod against the kiss and a small sigh from Will as Hannibal allowed one of his hands to brush into Will's wild curls that were far softer than they had any right to be. </p><p>Will broke the kiss with a shuddering breath, hands lowering to the center console. He licked at his beautifully swollen lips and Hannibal wondered if there was a moment when this man, even in this unkempt and disheveled moment, didn't look like angels had put him together. </p><p>Hannibal sighed and let his fingers card selfishly through Will's hair before he pulled free. He cleared his throat and straightened his coat that suddenly felt far too warm. His mind worked desperately to come back online, trying to come up with an answer to Will's question. </p><p>"There's a shop in Georgia that I picked them up from quite some time ago. I doubt they'd be able to connect me to it." Hannibal inhaled once more and brushed the hair that had fallen into his eyes back and into its normal place. “I do not want to assume anything, but my being open with you is not going to come back to-”</p><p>“Uncle Jack is not going to know a thing,” Will assured in a soft voice as if the accusation had hurt him in some way. “We’re in this together, Hannibal. If one of us falls, then both of us are going to burn.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded in understanding. They were conjoined now. Hannibal had contemplated the consequences of answering Will, but that tick would not leave him alone. It made his body anxious and jittery in a way that Hannibal hadn’t felt in years. He hadn’t lied. He didn’t like to back away from challenges. His pride was too big of an issue, it always had been, but now with Will here it was only worse. It was as if he were a teenager again and had to prove that he wasn’t a waste of space. He wouldn’t be a waste of space in Will’s life. He would make sure of that. </p><p>There was nothing that Will and he could do separately and Hannibal found himself not necessarily minding the idea. Will was unpredictable. He wasn’t exactly what Hannibal thought he was. A deranged stalker was not Will, but maybe that was why Hannibal was so intrigued. Nothing was really Will. Will was like him. There was no nice little box that Hannibal could place Will in yet. There was no label for Will. Nothing that Hannibal had been able to find. </p><p>“Were...” Will trailed off shyly and Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. Which person was Will playing? He seemed to be switching between the two this morning and Hannibal was beginning to wonder if the real Will rested somewhere between the two extremes that Hannibal had seen. Someone far more human than Will wanted the world to see. “Were we going to get coffee?” </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal replied with a smile, turning off the car.</p><p>The cafe was pleasantly warm and filled with happy chatter from the patrons. The scent of coffee and the sweetness of pastries, warmth from soups and sandwiches filled the air in a sleepy sort of way. A safe haven from the outside world that was dark and cold. </p><p>Hannibal motioned Will to the single empty table at the front of the cafe and Will followed the motion, taking a seat and gazing out the window, his head in his hands. The light from the window painted Will in a brilliant halo that made his dark curls shine with the red of cinnamon and Hannibal was curious if Will’s hair tinted more red during the summer months when the sun could naturally lighten his hair and he found himself looking forward to the summer months if fate was kind enough to allow them that time. </p><p>Hannibal ordered two coffees and a pastry before making his way over to the table. Will didn’t look up as Hannibal set the order down, face blank, lost in thought. Hannibal waited patiently, eyes not leaving the empath’s face as he sipped on his coffee that was still a little too hot to comfortably partake in. After a moment or two more of silence, Hannibal gave a fond smile, ready to dig a little further into what made this man so special. </p><p>“William?” Hannibal asked. </p><p>Will blinked from behind his glasses and inhaled sharply, putting a smile on his face as he turned back from the window. “Sorry,” he muttered, reaching out for the pastry and taking a bite of it. He gave a curious look and glanced over the item in his hand. “This is good,” he said, voice muffled through his mouthful. “What is it?” </p><p>“<em> Pain au Chocolat </em>,” Hannibal answered easily, catching the way that Will’s brow rose in question. “It originated in the south-west part of France. Supposedly Marie Antionette introduced the treat, but it’s a more modern dessert.” </p><p>“Several things,” Will said with his smile growing. “First, it’s just Will.” </p><p>“Oh?” Hannibal asked, taking a sip of his drink. It was finally cool enough and he gave a small look of dislike at the amount of cream that was present. He reached for the creamer on the table and blue eyes followed his movements. “Just Will? If you aren’t fond of the name William, I can-”</p><p>“No, it’s not that,” Will cut in, taking another bite of his food before taking a drink of his coffee to wash it down. “My name isn’t William. It’s not Fitzwilliam and it’s not Willard and it’s sure not Wilber. Just Will. It’s always been just Will. I come from a long line of rednecks and white trash. William is too high society for someone from Louisiana. They can’t afford the extra letters.” </p><p>Hannibal smiled and tested his coffee once more, finding it a bit closer to his liking. “Alright, just Will,” he said lightly. “What else? You sounded like you had an extensive list of corrections to go over with me.” </p><p>Will’s tongue stuck out between his teeth and he bit it with a smile. “Second, is this just a croissant with chocolate in it?” </p><p>Hannibal frowned as he looked over the item in Will’s hand that was nearly gone. “I suppose if you must knock it down to something that simplistic, then yes.” </p><p>Will snorted. “That upsets you?” Will took another bite and licked over his lips in a tantalizing way and Hannibal had to inhale deeply to still the way his blood wanted to race through his body. Their physical closeness was already a step too far in the wrong direction. Hannibal couldn’t let it move past that. Emotions would only make this that much worse and Hannibal still wasn’t exactly sure what this was meant to be. “I hope you know that I’m going to do this on purpose now,” Will pushed on. </p><p>“What? Dumb down food?” </p><p>“Especially everything you cook,” Will agreed with a firm nod, reaching out for another sip of his coffee. “The spaghetti you made the other night was wonderful.” </p><p>Hannibal’s teeth gritted before he could stop them. “That wasn’t spaghetti and you know it.” </p><p>“I don’t know.” Will inhaled sharply through his teeth in a teasing manner. His fingers tapped on the mug, the small clinks getting lost in the chatter around them. “For someone poor, any shaped noodle with some form of meat and marinara sauce is spaghetti. I appreciate the bowties and the shells though. They’re more fun to eat.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes, trying to keep in mind that the man was simply teasing him even if there was truth to his words. “I will keep that in mind the next time I decide to cook a pasta dish for you.” Will chuckled and took another sip of his coffee. He tipped his head to the side and one of his fingers trailed the rim of his mug. “You grew up poor?” </p><p>Will winced at the question and his eyes ground down into the table top, avoiding Hannibal’s. A point of tension in his life, then. Will had been so avoidant about the conversation over dinner that maybe that really was a difficult place for Will. Maybe that was something Hannibal could slowly tug at to pull the man apart. Taking Will apart was still the safest direction that Hannibal had in this situation. Keep Will off balance and ready to tip over to protect himself. Self preservation would always come first. </p><p>Will licked at his lips. “I told you that I never connected to the concept of family.” </p><p>“Why is that Will?” </p><p>Will’s eyes closed and he sighed. “I grew up dirt poor. Sometimes without food and a good portion of the time without a bed. My mother left after I was born and my father drank to forget her. I don’t even really know what she looked like. We didn’t have any pictures of her. She was a taboo subject that my father never spoke about.” Will’s hand reached up and he pulled his glasses from his nose, setting them down on the table before rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “The only thing that I have to go on is that my father said that I looked like her. He hated me because of how much I reminded him of her. My eyes and my curls and the way I smiled all belonged to her apparently.” </p><p>“If you are anything to base your mother on, she must have been heartstopping,” Hannibal muttered before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth and the amount of shock that it produced over Will’s face made him wish the words had died in his throat. </p><p>Will cleared his throat, blush creeping over his features and he took another deep drink of his coffee. “I followed my father from boatyards of Biloxi and Greenville to, uh, lake boats on Erie.” </p><p>“Always the new boy at school,” Hannibal commented, noting how discussing his father’s line of work was far easier for Will than speaking about his physical looks. “Always the stranger.” </p><p>“Always,” Will agreed with a slight laugh and a half smile. “And what about your family, Doctor Lecter? A little <em> quid pro quo </em> is in order, I think.” </p><p>Hannibal smiled at the term and nodded in agreement, inhaling deeply. A give and take was exactly what their relationship needed to be built on. “Both my parents died when I was very young. The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my Uncle Robert at thirteen.”</p><p>Will gave a nod. “I didn’t mean-”</p><p>“Do not apologize to me,” Hannibal instructed easily. Will had meant no harm by the question and Hannibal had not taken it as such in any way. It was normal to be curious and Will was such a curious man that Hannibal was bound to ask many more questions of him as well. “Was there more on your list?” </p><p>“Ah,” Will muttered with a nod and another smile. “Yes. Third, I didn’t expect you to speak French.” Will gave a shrug and finished off his pastry. “I mean, with your accent I did expect you to speak something, but not French. You’re not from France, are you?” </p><p>“Not originally. I moved there with my uncle and learned to speak French then. I am from Lithuania. Do you know any other languages, Will?” </p><p>Will frowned and shook his head. “Not much. I know a bit of Spanish to say hello and some Creole and Cajun from when I lived down south.” </p><p>“You could speak French fairly easily, I would suspect.” </p><p>Will shook his head, nose scrunching up. “It’s a mess of French and Portuguese and slang and who knows what else. It’s a giant mixing pot down there. There’s no way I would understand a word you say.” Will sighed, eyes closing at a rather loud shattering sound and Hannibal glanced over to where a drink had happened to fall to the ground, the mug in pieces on the floor. Hannibal turned back to Will who rubbed at his temple with a small breath. “Do you know any other languages?” The words were soft, whispered as if he felt guilty for the mess that he hadn’t created. </p><p>“I don’t want to come off as superior,” Hannibal answered and Will gave him an incredulous smile from behind the obvious discomfort from the fuss being made over the mug. Hannibal smiled. “Lithuania, French, German, Danish, Swedish, Latin, English and Italian.” Will’s smile had dropped and he blinked several times. “I also know a little Japanese courtesy of my aunt, but not enough to call myself fluent.” </p><p>“Were you an overachiever in school?” Will asked with a tip of his head. “I have a horrible feeling that you were-”</p><p>“The top of my class,” Hannibal answered with a nod. </p><p>Will hummed and picked up his cup of coffee, finishing it off. “Fourth, how did you know my order.” </p><p>“Your order?” Hannibal mused before taking a sip of his own cup. He licked at his lips with a deep breath. “How you like your coffee?” Will’s brow rose impatiently and Hannibal couldn’t help but smile. “Does it upset you when people treat you like you’re not as intelligent as you are?” </p><p>Will was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. He eventually gave a shrug and slouched back in his chair. “I don’t let them see how smart I am, so I suppose I shouldn’t be upset when I get treated like I’m stupid. And...” Will frowned, folding his arms over his chest securly. Trying to protect himself. Hannibal knew well what it meant when a person hugged themselves, clung to themselves. Will was feeling one or a mixture of insecurity, self-consciousness, being afraid or defensiveness. “I’m not smart. Not really. I just pay attention and can remember things. I’ve never been smart.” </p><p>Hannibal’s gaze narrowed and Will only seemed to shrink more. “Never been smart?” Hannibal repeated softly. “I have a hard time believing that, Will.” Curious. Will would forever be curious. The man was so small now. Pulling himself further into himself. “When I look at you, Will, I see a deeply complex man.” Will gave a snort and closed his eyes. “I see someone who is highly intelligent. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were also at the top of your classes in school, unless you failed them on purpose.” Will’s eyes snapped open at that and Hannibal had to make a mental note to go back to that subject later. “I see a brilliant profiler, invaluable to the FBI, with a knack for manipulation. I see someone who is on the spectrum, but who I think exaggerates their symptoms to make sure that no one will want to be close to him, though I haven’t exactly pinned what happened to you to make you not want human contact. I think you have sociopathic tendencies and come off as awkward and cold and have issues making friends because of it.”</p><p>Will had sat back up fully and was leaning against the table, head cocked to the side, eyes icy as he listened. His back was tense and jaw clenched. <em> You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.  </em></p><p>“I see someone with a rare gift of empathy and overactive imagination,” Hannibal continued on in what he hoped was a gentle voice. Will didn’t need to be defensive around him. It wasn’t necessary. As he had said, they were in this together now and if they were going to be in this together then they needed to be open. Not completely right away, but they had to be honest. “I think you might have Savant syndrome and exploring the Empathising–systemising theory with you would be an interesting turn of topic. I also think there is a high probability that you possess incredible mental abilities like a photographic or eidetic memory as well as possibly hypercalculia.”</p><p>Will’s brows furrowed and he gave a nervous laugh, a hand covering his mouth. “Is this how all conversations with you are going to go, Doctor Lecter?” Hannibal fell silent and his eyes darted carefully over the man who still sat uncomfortable. “I get why people are always so uncomfortable around me now. I don’t like how easily you see through me. I can hide from everyone else, but you-you-” </p><p>“You asked me to see you, Will,” Hannibal pointed out softly causing Will to shift in his chair. “You said you wanted to be seen.” </p><p>“I didn’t think it would make me feel so.... Weak,” he whispered, a sad sort of smile on his lips when his hand lowered back to the table top. “How did you know my coffee order?” </p><p>Hannibal shook his head. “I didn’t, if you want my honest answer.” Will’s lips twitched up at the corners, though they weren’t a full smile. “I went with black so that you could add creamer and sugar as you pleased. I got you a double shot of espresso so that you could function at work with your lack of sleep and the single sugar was to counteract how horribly bitter such a drink would be.” </p><p>Will gave a small chuckle. He glanced over his watch and inhaled deeply. “I have to get back to campus. My next class will be starting here shortly.” </p><p>“Of course.” Hannibal rose from his seat and waited for Will to move, but Will once more was glancing out of the window, a little lost. “Will?” </p><p>“Hmm?” Will hummed back in answer. </p><p>“Where do you go when you do that?” </p><p>Will shrugged and pulled his gaze from the window. “It usually happens when there’s too much going on around me. I think my mind tries to pull me in so it can block everything else out until it's safe.” Will got to his feet and gathered up his glasses, following Hannibal from the cafe and back out into the snow that was sticking and falling heavier now. “I usually end up in my creek, fishing.” </p><p>Hannibal opened the passenger door to his car and Will hesitated at the sidewalk, eyeing the door before looking at Hannibal as if unsure what he was meant to do. “Will,” Hannibal said, the word sounding so encompassing as it filled the air. “You can kiss me in public without a second thought, but my holding the car door open for you is going to give you pause?” </p><p>“No one’s- no one’s ever done that for me before,” Will answered with a small huff. “It’s...” Will was silent for a moment and Hannibal watched the man’s expressions change as he tried to settle on what to say. “It’s odd, but not unwelcome.” </p><p>“Get in,” Hannibal instructed, his hand reaching out to rest on the small of Will’s back. Will’s spine stiffened at the touch and blue eyes met Hannibal’s, perplexed. “We need to get you to your classes.” Hannibal’s hand reached out and plucked the glasses from Will’s hand and Will tried to snatch them back. Hannibal shook his head and pressed against Will’s back, guiding him towards the open car door that was allowing snow to cover the leather seats. “Get in,” Hannibal instructed again, this time a little softer. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Will’s temple and Will’s shock allowed Hannibal to manipulate Will into the car and Hannibal shut the door. </p><p>Hannibal walked around the side of the car and got into the driver’s side, turning the engine on and making sure once more that the heater was up to help their breath to keep the windows from fogging over. </p><p>Hannibal held up the glasses in his fingers curiously, twisting them this way and that. He swiftly pulled them out of Will’s grasp when the man reached for them. “Give them back,” Will ordered, hand outheld and palm up. “I need them.” </p><p>Hannibal grinned, something flaring up in his chest at the blatant lie. “Please make sure you’re honest going forward with me, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal said, once more looking over the oval lenses before opening up the glasses and holding them up to the small amount of sunlight there was. “Complete honesty between us is crucial.” Hannibal placed the spectacles on his nose and he chuckled. “These don’t have a prescription.” </p><p>“So?” Will grumbled, pushing his hand a little closer to Hannibal. “You’ve had your fun, give them back.” </p><p>“Why don’t they have a prescription, Will?” Hannibal pulled the glasses from his nose and looked over them once more before placing them into Will’s open palm. Will swiftly pulled them back to himself and clutched them so tightly Hannibal thought that maybe they would break. </p><p>“I’ve told you. Eyes are distracting.” Will’s voice was no more of a whisper and Hannibal nearly felt bad for teasing the man with the way that Will huddled up against the door, as far from Hannibal as he could get. “And it gives me something to keep people distant or keep from answering questions I don’t want to. People get upset if I clean my glasses without answering and they’ll drop the subject or move onto something else.”  Will glanced over at Hannibal. “Too rude?” </p><p>“Not at all,” Hannibal guaranteed, pulling from the curb and into midday traffic. The rest of the trip was quiet, Will falling asleep halfway back to the school, obviously comfortable enough with Hannibal to let his guard down, even after their conversation in the coffee shop. </p><p>Hannibal let soft classical music fill the car as he pressed on through the swirling snow that would be unpleasant to drive in later that evening, but he wasn’t about to let a few snowflakes stop him from his evening with Will. Not when they still had so much to discuss. Not when Hannibal still wanted to know more about what Will thought about his display. The kiss had been pleasant, Hannibal wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t, but he was a firm believer that words spoke more volumes than actions did. </p><p>Hannibal pulled up in front of the school a short time later and glanced over the sleeping man in his passenger seat whose face was still pale and gaunt and eyes deep set with purple rings. He didn’t want to wake the man honestly. He wasn’t sure what Will’s sleep schedule consisted of, but he obviously didn’t get enough of it and probably drank far too much coffee if he was able to sleep through the double shot that Hannibal had gotten him. </p><p>“Will,” he called softly. </p><p>The man’s breathing jumped and he sat upright with a small groan, a hand carding through his messy hair. “Thank you for the ride,” Will muttered as he glanced out the window to take in the students filling in and out of the building with a grimace. “And the coffee. I’m sorry I fell asleep.” </p><p>“It’s nothing to be worried over, Will.” </p><p>Will glanced over with a kind smile. “I’ll see you tonight.” Will’s hand went to the door, but he paused, turning back to Hannibal. “I’m going to make sure they’re tired out by the time you get there, but I do have seven dogs.” </p><p>Seven? Hannibal let the number slowly sink into him. He had assumed that when Will had said dogs that maybe there had been two or possibly an odd number of three and one of them was more rambunctious than the others, but now he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that. </p><p>“They’re all really well behaved,” Will defended quickly, hand now nervously digging through his curls repeatedly. “Well, I’m still working with Winston. He’s new. He’s the one that chewed up my couch cushion. But I promise that they won’t be a bother. They-” </p><p>“It’s fine, Will,” Hannibal cut in sincerely. He inhaled deeply with a nod, adjusting to the number. “I have nothing against dogs.” </p><p>“Your home was just so clean and you’re always dressed so nicely and I-” </p><p>“Dear boy,” Hannibal chided with a small smile. “If you think a handful of dogs are going to come between the haphazard mess we’re building between us, you are sorely mistaken.” </p><p>Will’s smile immediately jumped into that dazzling thing from several nights before and all of the exhaustion seemed to melt away from the man, a confidence radiating off of him once more. “Thank you Hannibal. I’ll...” Will licked his lips and once more reached for the door handle. “I’ll see you for dinner.” </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal hadn’t expected The Baltimore Butcher to live in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Hannibal made certain to keep a decent amount of space between his kills and his home and office, but it had taken Hannibal over a good hour to arrive at a farmhouse in the absolute middle of nowhere. Some blame could have been put on the snow, though the storm had come to a stop earlier that afternoon. </p><p>Hannibal also hadn’t been expecting a quaint little white farmhouse to be where Will lived. Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure, now that he thought about it, what type of home Will would encompass, but a farmhouse was far from it. It made sense though. Will needed the space for his dogs if there really were seven of them, Hannibal was in deep denial, and the quiet was a perfect escape to help settle Will’s loud mind. </p><p>The front porch was hidden behind an overgrowth of trees and ivy clung to the side panelings. The lights shone brightly through the downstairs windows, causing the house to look like a ship set a sail across a snowy lake. </p><p>Hannibal stepped from the car, several bags of items laden on his arms. He wound his way up to the front porch and knocked on the door, the immediate sound of barking coming from inside. </p><p>“Quiet!” Will’s voice ordered from behind the door and Hannibal smiled at how desperate it sounded. “I told you to behave. Go back to your beds. Come on.” It took a moment or two more of Hannibal standing out in the cold before the front door finally opened a crack, Will obviously trying to keep his dogs from rushing outside by blocking the way with his body. “Winston,” he grumbled, glancing down at a beautifully red-golden dog who sat nearly on top of Will’s foot, eyeing Hannibal through the small slit in the door. The dog didn’t acknowledge his name in the slightest and Hannibal caught the exasperated roll of Will’s eyes. “Tss!” he hissed through his teeth and the dog finally responded, getting to his feet. “Bed. Go.” With a small whine the dog obeyed and Will turned back to Hannibal with a nearly defeated look. “Sorry. They get excited with guests. I promise they’ll be good.” </p><p>“I’m sure they’ll be just fine,” Hannibal assured, taking in Will’s appearance.</p><p>It landed somewhere between the two sides that Hannibal had come to know from the man. His hair had been tamed back most likely with some water. It still held it’s natural curl rather than being slicked back, but was much nicer than it had been that morning. His beard had been cleaned up as well. Trimmed and shaped, but not the shadow it had been at dinner. An no glasses were in sight.</p><p>His flannel and suit had been traded for a light blue Henley shirt whose sleeves had been shoved up to his elbows and the top button of three was open, exposing the man’s pale throat. Grey slacks fit his body just so, made to fit the slenderness of his hips and the length of his long legs. </p><p>“What’s that?” Will questioned, nodding to the items in Hannibal’s arms. </p><p>“You told me to bring dessert,” Hannibal reminded, causing Will to straighten up a little bit and lick his lips. “I’m not overstepping am I?”</p><p>“No,” Will quickly answered before glancing behind himself. Hannibal followed the gaze and found the space empty, Will most likely checking to make sure that his dogs were nowhere near the door before the door was pulled open far enough to let Hannibal inside and out of the cold. The scent of spices and citrus was strong in the room and Hannibal inhaled deeply. “Uh, I’m sorry about the mess.” Will closed the door, locking it, and ran a hand through his curls, effectively messing them up and bringing them back to life. “I tried to clean up, but Jack ambushed me and I couldn’t get away early enough to really do much. I also just moved in, so I haven’t quite finished unpacking yet.” Will stepped closer and pulled the two totes from Hannibal’s arms. “I’ll grab us some drinks. I don’t have any wine. I hope whiskey is alright.” </p><p>“Fine.” </p><p>Will gave a nod and set off through the rest of the house, calling over his shoulder, “Make yourself at home.” </p><p>Hannibal’s hands clasped behind his back as he glanced over the front room. It was cluttered and stuffed full of odds and ends. A stone fireplace sat unused and on each side of it, amongst some truly awful green paint were two built in bookcases stuffed to the brim and overflowing with books of varying sizes. </p><p>Furniture was mixed in between boat engines and unpacked boxes, a conscious hodgepodge, unmatched, and not theatrical in any way. None of the dog beds in front of the fireplace matched either. Some were older, ratted and torn and some newer, but all well used and loved, each one housing a body with eyes that watched him carefully. </p><p>A dark, upright piano caught his eye and he wandered over to it, reaching out to play some of the keys. Hannibal grimaced at the horrid twang of notes, one of the dogs giving a small whine at the displeasing sound. </p><p>“That needs to be tuned,” Will called from somewhere in the house before his footsteps grew closer and he entered the front room, hands being wiped on a kitchen towel. “The movers knocked it out of tune when they were moving it in. I haven’t had the chance or the money to have it looked at.” </p><p>Hannibal pulled his hands back from the piano with a plastered smile. How irresponsible and... Hannibal inhaled deeply, pushing down his annoyance. It was physically painful to hear about the way an instrument was mistreated. Something in his chest ached at the idea of someone being so rough with something that was only meant to bring joy into a rather dull existence. It wasn’t fair. </p><p>“I’ll make sure someone is here this weekend to take a look at it,” Hannibal muttered, ignoring the opened mouth surprise on Will’s face as he turned to the wall opposite of the fireplace. More books on more book shelves and among more mismatched chairs was a mass collection of fishing gear and tackle and what Hannibal assumed was a dresser, though he couldn’t exactly place why Will’s dresser would be in the front room and not his bedroom. Hannibal stepped past a sputtering Will and went for it, fingers itching with their want to dig through the dresser and find what could possibly be in it aside from Will’s clothes. He turned his head to the side at a folded bed that was shoved into the corner between two large windows, dark blue comforter a little askew and pillow cases halfway off the pillows. The front room was his bedroom? </p><p>“That-that’s not needed. Really. I hardly play as it is.” Will followed after Hannibal, disapproval taking over the surprise on his features. “Doctor Lecter-” </p><p>“Hannibal,” the doctor corrected as he glanced over a curious looking stand that was holding what looked like a fishing lure. It was a lovely blood red color, the feathers meticulously placed around the hook and tied to it with a red thread. </p><p>Will gave a loud sigh. “Hannibal. I really can’t accept that. It’s hundreds of dollars and I-”</p><p>“It’s no burden. You’ve seen my house and my car.” Hannibal dismissed Will’s worry easily, his focus much more interested on the crafts on Will’s desk than on Will’s discomfort. “Money is not an issue for me.” </p><p>“Yeah, but-” </p><p>“You make your own lures?” Hannibal bent over to look a little closer at the work that was being done. There was a dark material there as well and Hannibal placed it as hair, though what’s or whose it was, he wasn’t sure and wasn’t about to ask.  “It’s beautiful.” </p><p>“I’m-I’m honestly not very good. It was just a hobby I picked up to have something to do with my hands,” Will explained quickly. “Hannibal, I really-” </p><p>“Will.” Hannibal smiled as he stood upright. “Just accept my offer. It will make it much easier on both of us.” Will opened his mouth to argue, but at a raised brow from Hannibal, his mouth closed and he gave a small nod. “Good.” Hannibal glanced around the room once more, taking in the organized chaos that it was. Similar colors and shapes created a continuous flow through his space, with many windows connecting to a natural setting. It was a sensual fish tank in which everything was held in a kind of ether that somehow wasn’t off putting in the slightest. “Why do you sleep out here? Why not the bedroom?” </p><p>“It’s on the second floor,” Will muttered, shifted on his feet, eyes on the floor. “I want to be aware at all times who is showing up outside of my house.” </p><p>“You don’t trust your dogs to take care of you?” Hannibal turned to the group of seven who were still looking over him curiously but had obediently not moved from their spots. </p><p>“They bark, but they wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Will explained, staying a step behind Hannibal. “If you brought them a treat they would be your best friend.” </p><p>“I did so happen to bring them some sausage I made, if that’s alright with you.” Hannibal glanced over his shoulder to once more find a shocked look across Will’s angelic features. “Am I really that surprising to you, dear boy?” </p><p>“I...” Will’s face twisted up as he searched for his words. “I didn’t expect someone like you to-to-” </p><p>“Have a conscience?” Hannibal supplied and Will nodded his answer with a shrug, hands still clutching the kitchen towel. “Just because I kill people does not mean that I don’t appreciate life and all of the little things it has to offer, Will.” </p><p>Will gave another slight nod before his eyes fell to his dogs and he stepped closer, clearing his throat. “I suppose I should introduce you.” Will pointed to each in turn. “That’s Jack, Harley, Max and Ellie. That’s Buster. He’d be more of a handful if he was bigger. Luckily he can’t jump up onto the furniture. That’s Zoe and you’ve met Winston.” </p><p>“The one who enjoys to torture the upholstery,” Hannibal answered with a mock smile that had Will grinning in that dazzling way that Hannibal was sure Will never used enough. </p><p>“Yeah. That one.” Will pushed his curls back from his face. “I picked him up about a week ago. He gets nervous when I leave the house. He was wandering out in the snow on that really long stretch of road by the logging trails. Brought him back after bribing him with treats and cleaned him up.” </p><p>“Do you keep all of the strays you collect?” </p><p>Will worked his jaw and he gave a shrug before heading towards a doorway that Hannibal followed him through and past a much nicer looking sitting room that was more bare than cluttered. But Will kept going past a staircase and then through another doorway and into a nice little kitchen with a breakfast nook that must have been the dining room. </p><p>“I meant to get them adopted, but I just couldn’t seem to give them away. They’re just as lost as I am.” Will tossed the towel on the counter beside Hannibal's bags and moved over to a wet bar to fetch the two glasses of whiskey he had offered earlier. “They’re my mismatched family.” Hannibal took the outheld glass into his hand and looked over the amber liquid that Will downed like a shot. “What did you bring for dessert?” </p><p>“Patience, dear Will. I’ll explain while I make it.” </p><p>“Make it?” </p><p>“I find it’s best served fresh, if that doesn’t bother you.” </p><p>Will shook his head, but that didn’t stop the flicker of worry in those blue eyes. “I don’t have much here for you to use is all.” Will glanced around at his mediocre kitchen with a deep sigh. “I barely had enough pans to make dinner.” </p><p>“Can I inquire as to what we’re having?” Hannibal took a sip of his drink and winced at the harsh burn of the cheap liquor down his throat. He set the glass on the counter to be forgotten and met Will’s gaze. </p><p>“Cajun trout, roasted vegetables and some cornbread. I caught the fish yesterday, so they should still be fresh.” Will’s smile was bright and Hannibal couldn’t help but feel like the boy was fishing for a compliment. “It should be done in a moment. I’m just waiting for the veggies to finish cooking.” </p><p>“It sounds wonderful.” Hannibal inhaled once more and looked over the stove top that had two baking sheets covered with tin foil, waiting. “I don’t often explore southern cooking. I’m afraid the concept is quite foreign. What’s in the spices you used? I feel like I can’t place some of them.” </p><p>“You can name individual spices just by scent?” </p><p>Hannibal straightened himself up a bit and nodded. “I’ve always had a rather special gift of scents, though it is nowhere near as impressive as your empathy.” </p><p>“My disorder?” Will snorted with a shake of his head. “It’s not impressive. It’s troublesome.” A ding at the oven sounded and Will turned around to attend to the vegetables. “What spices can you smell then?” Will demanded, voice thick with disbelief. </p><p>Hannibal’s fingers drummed on the counter in quiet contemplation for a moment before he finally answered. “Paprika, oregano, cayenne and some sort of pepper.” </p><p>“There are a bunch of different ways to make it. This is just the recipe my dad showed me. Some people add dry mustard or chili powder to it and others don’t use oregano.” Will set another pan with tin foil onto the stove top. Hannibal stepped around the counter, curious to watch Will work as Will got two plates down from the cabinet. “You were right, by the way. There is black and white pepper in it. I also use garlic salt and onion powder.”  </p><p>Will’s hands were steady as they plated a fillet that was beautifully colored pink and seasoned with the spices they had discussed. Will placed a lemon slice on the plate and then added sliced green onions and what Hannibal placed as parsley over the top of the fish. Next were the vegetables that were still vibrantly colored and a hardy square of golden cornbread. </p><p>Will picked up both plates and moved them over to the table where settings were already waiting and so was a plate of butter and half used teddy bear bottle of honey that was crystalized up the edges. Hannibal gave a small smile and went to join Will at the small and rickety dining table that only had two chairs. </p><p>“I know it’s nothing compared to what you make, but-” </p><p>“It looks wonderful, Will.” Hannibal reached for his fork and dug into the flakey fish that had a mild flavor brought to life by the spices and delicate texture. Will was watching him carefully and Hannibal gave a small smile around his fork. “It’s delightful Will.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Will muttered with a soft blush before eating himself. “This is the first time I’ve actually cooked something in a long time. I usually just throw something in the microwave or eat a bowl of cereal.” Hannibal lowered his fork with a frown and his brows knitted together. “Do you ever just throw something in the microwave?” </p><p>If Hannibal had had anything in his mouth, he would have choked. “Do I look like someone who uses a microwave?” Will grinned and shook his head shyly before putting a carrot in his mouth. “Eating properly is important to your health Will.” </p><p>"You care?" Will asked curiously, his smile only growing around another forkful of food. </p><p>"I'm beginning to doubt your gift, Will," Hannibal mocked, enjoying the simplicity of Will's smile and the warmth of his home. There was something charming and calm about the place and Hannibal was nearly certain that this was the real Will. It was indeed somewhere between the two men he had seen. Some perfect little sweet spot that Hannibal was going to absolutely delight in tearing apart. "What did you see today at the crime scene?" </p><p>The cap to the honey clicked as it was opened and Will poured a generous amount over his dangerously over buttered corn bread before digging into it with his fork. There was a gentle silence in the room that Hannibal settled easily into while Will finished his bite and put his thoughts together. </p><p>"Price was right," Will finally said. "I was trying not to bring up the love aspect." </p><p>"Because you didn't want Uncle Jack to connect it or because you didn't want to see it in that light?" </p><p>Will snickered and took a drink of his glass of water. "You don't love me, Hannibal. This isn't love." </p><p>Hannibal sat back in his chair, the wood creaking with the movement. “What is it, dear Will?” </p><p>“An infatuation,” Will replied with a shrug stabbing at another piece of cornbread. “Butterflies don’t live long. You don’t expect this to last. You expect this to go down in flames and sooner rather than later.” He took a thoughtful bite and pursed his lips, head tipping side to side. “We have anywhere from two weeks to eight months before this blows up in our faces.” </p><p>Hannibal grinned, with a small nod. “How did you come up with those numbers?” </p><p>“It’s how long Monarchs live.” Will finished off his plate and his smile was warm and gentle as he set his fork aside. “That’s how long you think you have before I turn you in or we get caught. Or that’s how long you believe that I’ll be useful until you grow tired of me and take care of me. How long do you normally keep your playthings around, Doctor Lecter? Is it as fleeting as the life of a butterfly?” </p><p>“You’re not a plaything, dear Will,” Hannibal said thoughtfully as he leaned forward in his chair. Will mirrored his motions and Hannibal watched curiously. Did Will know he copied other people’s actions? Did he do it subconsciously or was it done in a way to create a stronger bond between them? That seemed like something that Will would keep a very conscious eye on with the conditions he grew up with.  Anything and everything to have a normal connection despite how hard he shoved them away. “You’re special.” </p><p>“No,” Will said in sharp disagreement, yet his smile didn’t falter. Will shook his head. “No, no, Doctor Lecter. My father called me special, my physicians called me special, my teachers called me special. I’m something different to you. What am I?” Will rose to his feet then and gathered his empty plate, taking Hannibal’s when Hannibal nodded it’s excusal. “You didn’t answer my kill because I was special. You didn’t stab that man through the heart because I was special. You didn’t build that shadow box and spend painstaking hours perfectly spacing out butterflies because I was special.” Will dropped the plates in the sink and turned on the water, letting it run to heat up before turning to face Hannibal, arms folded over his chest. “I’m not special. What am I?” </p><p>Hannibal grinned as he got to his feet, the words sincere as he spoke them. “You’re quite right, Will. You’re something else entirely, aren’t you?” Hannibal stepped further into the kitchen, keeping his eyes held firm with Will’s who looked ready to turn away from the gaze. A flush filled Will’s cheeks and his eyes scanned Hannibal carefully as Hannibal stepped closer to the empath. When Hannibal was directly in front of Will, Will tried to turn back to the running sink, discomfort strong on him, but Hannibal’s hand reached out and snatched up Will’s jaw. The hold wasn’t tight, Will could pull away if he wanted to, but he didn’t move and Hannibal smiled his approval. “You’re unique Will. Extraordinarily so.” </p><p>Will snorted a breath out through his nose and smiled, trying to look down, but Hannibal’s grip held him tight and upright. “I haven’t heard that one before,” Will muttered, a hand coming up to circle around Hannibal’s wrist. </p><p>The hold was secure and Hannibal’s skin tingled under Will’s caressing thumb down his lifeline. Hannibal’s chest constricted and he frowned, wishing he could name what was happening in his body. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it still sent Hannibal into the territory of uncomfortable. The same uncomfortable he had been in when he was drilling screws into mahogany. The same uncomfortable as butterflies disintegrated in his hands. The same uncomfortable as rebar pierced a bloodless heart. </p><p>He never had a problem with his kills before, but there was something about this one, something so determining and final that it pained Hannibal. Rejection had also never been a fear of his, but for once, like so many times since meeting this splendid boy, Hannibal was waiting for the rejection of his work. A spit in the face. A never mind, I changed my mind. Anything that would end this small oddness between them and it wasn’t coming. The flashing neon warning was there, all around them, screaming with bells and whistles, but they were all talk and no bite. </p><p>Will’s eyes stared at him, fire burning brightly in water, if one could imagine such a thing. They were passion in ice. Never dominating or submitting. Will would never be either. Not while they were together. They were equals and Hannibal enjoyed the idea of finally having a companion that could match him in every way and possibly surpass him in others. </p><p>Hannibal’s limbs moved without his permission, another thing so foreign and new to him. He pulled Will closer to him with a light draw on Will’s chin and the man moved fluidly forward with no hesitation. </p><p>Hannibal would never quite figure out if the beauty of Will’s lips were more their softness or their association with the words that he spoke. And they were soft. Soft and velvety like rose petals. The sweetest silk again Hannibal’s own as he brought them together in something gentle. </p><p>Will inhaled sharply when Hannibal pulled back and Hannibal gave an amused smile at the way Will’s eyes stayed shut as his tongue trailed those pink lips of his. “Hannibal, maybe we shouldn’t-” Will broke off at another press of lips to his, “-do things like... this.” </p><p>“Like what, Will?” Hannibal asked back against Will’s lips, pushing closer to the man. Will stumbled back and into the sink that was still running and forgotten. Hannibal trapped him with hands on either side of his hips, bodies flush together. </p><p>There was a loud sigh from Will at another tortuously simple kiss and Hannibal was shocked at the way that Will’s hands clutched to him as if Hannibal were the only thing keeping him standing. Fingers dug into Hannibal’s suit coat, wrinkling the material, but Hannibal didn’t seem to be able to find it in himself to care. </p><p>“I was too forward in the beginning,” Will gasped out before kissing at Hannibal’s lips once more. “We can’t get attached like this.” </p><p>“Like this?” Hannibal pressed with a taunt to his tone that caused Will to moan lightly into Hannibal’s mouth. This was nothing and would never be anything other than just this. It meant nothing to Hannibal. It was simply another means of endearing Will to him to protect himself. It wasn’t hard to feel the adoration pouring from the empath, his emotions never quiet when he was alone with Hannibal. Will was too open with Hannibal and it was going to be used against him. Will hadn’t been wrong. Will would be there as long as he was useful. Once Will had played his part, Hannibal would cut his strings and Will would let him. Hannibal was sure of it. Will would be grateful for it and would bask in the beauty of his own blood. </p><p>“Stop playing games, Hannibal. You know exactly-” Will groaned as Hannibal bit at his bottom lip, pulling it gently into his mouth to suck on it as his hands took Will’s slender hips. “You know what you’re doing.” </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal agreed easily with a small huff of laughter after he had pulled back from Will. “You’ve started something you’re not about to escape from, Will.” It was a warning that had Will’s hazey eyes meeting Hannibal’s gaze in uncertainty. “This will be the end of us.” Will’s eyes slid closed at another light kiss and Hannibal released the man, amused when Will’s hands snatched up the sink for balance now that Hannibal was out of reach. “As you put so eloquently, dear boy, if one of us falls, then both of us are going to burn.” </p><p>It took a moment for Will to move again, Hannibal watching his breathing carefully, counting the rise and fall of his chest. Thirty five breaths a minute was a little high, but Will eased them back down to something normal before turning to the sink to wash the dishes. </p><p>He cleared his throat and Hannibal grinned. Was Will really that sensitive and responsive? This was absolutely going to be far easier than Hannibal had thought it would be. Keeping the man off balance wouldn’t take as much time as Hannibal first calculated, but keeping the man suspended was going to be the fun part until Hannibal could knock him over. The balancing act was the challenge that Hannibal was looking forward to. </p><p>“What’s for dessert?” Will asked, voice rough and Hannibal couldn’t stop the slight chuckle in his throat as how destroyed Will already was with nothing more than brushes of lips. </p><p>“Sanguinaccio Dolce,” Hannibal answered, making his way over to the items that were still on the counter to begin pulling them from the totes. Will paused in his washing to give Hannibal a questioning look. “A classic Neapolitan dessert with almond milk.”</p><p>“Sanguinaccio Dolce,” Will repeated curiously, the words not holding quite the same finesse as Hannibal’s. Hannibal had come to the realization early on that it was very few and far between that Americans could actually pronounce something the way it was meant to be said without making a fool of themselves. It was a matter of great annoyance. Will, on the other hand, did not produce the same irritation. </p><p>“It’s one of my favorite desserts,” Hannibal pressed on, digging through Will’s cabinets until he found a metal mixing bowl. The water from the sink stopped and from the corner of his eye, Hannibal watched Will dry his hands and then the plates with a dish towel before putting them away. “Traditionally made with pig’s blood.” Will’s movements paused and Hannibal looked up at the frozen body, waiting for a further reaction. None came, Will simply putting the last plate away before turning around, dish towel being tossed aside. </p><p>“I should have been asking who we’re having instead of what,” Will said softly, stepping to Hannibal’s side. Hannibal’s eyes flickered over the man curiously once more before returning to his work of adding the cream and almond milk together in the bowl. “Who are we having for dessert, Hannibal?” </p><p>“A Mr. Caleb Francesco,” Hannibal answered, keeping careful tabs of Will at his side. Will tipped his head to the side at the news and Hannibal could feel Will’s eyes observing him intensely as Hannibal picked up the container of a dark liquid that was nearly black. "I believe you met him earlier this morning." </p><p>“He abused his family.” Will gave a nod. Hannibal tipped the container and let the liquid mix with the cream and Will stepped a little closer. Hannibal couldn’t help but look over Will’s calm expression as Will leaned over the mixing bowl to better see. “That color is beautiful,” he whispered before his eyes flickered up to Hannibal. “Are you going to keep staring at me, Doctor Lecter?” There was a hint of a laugh in Will’s voice and a slight smile on his lips, his eyes returning to the swirling garnet red that the cream had become. “I’m worried you might want to eat me next.” </p><p>“You’re ever surprising, Will,” Hannibal whispered, unable to take his eyes from Will’s face. “You’re blindly accepting my proclivities.” </p><p>“I don’t fully agree,” Will corrected with a small nod. “I don’t quite understand the <em>you’ll be with me forever</em> mentality, but if this is going to work between us- whatever this is- we need to be accepting. Even if it’s blindly.” </p><p>“It’s not a means of keeping them with me,” Hannibal explained, finally calling Will’s eyes to his face. “If that were the case I would kill people that mean something to me.” </p><p>“What is it then? Tabloid voyeurism and necrophilia?” </p><p>Hannibal frowned at the words, dislike bitter in his mouth at the accusation. “No,” he grumbled. </p><p>“Power?” Will tried again. Hannibal inhaled deeply through his nose, setting aside the long empty container. His eyes jumped up to Will as his wrist was snatched up. A deep crimson coated the tips of his index and middle finger and Hannibal could only stare as Will brought Hannibal’s hand to his mouth and his tongue flicked out, cleaning the pads of Hannibal's fingers and streaking scarlet over Will’s tongue. A shuddering breath left Hannibal before he could pull it back in, his knees going funnily weak beneath him in betrayal. Will chuckled darkly, something sparkling in those blue depths of his. The tease came in a whisper. “Do I make you feel powerless, Doctor Lecter?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all once again for your comments and kudos! They keep me living. Please let me know what you thought! Until next time, Happy reading!</p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“The fire can’t touch me, for I have burned one too many times and the sea can’t harm me, for I’ve been drowning all my life. Oh but you could rip my heart open, darling, for I have never known love before.”<br/>― R. / asthreria</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Been working hard on this one. Hope you guys like it. Please let me know!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                     </p>
<hr/><p>Dinner had become a once a week occurrence. Their weekly therapy was a much nicer conduction around a meal than it would have ever been in an office. It wasn't orthodox, but Will was an unorthodox patient. Still just as closed up as the day they had met, but Hannibal was certain he would slowly be able to break the man down. It was already becoming easier to speak to the man and Hannibal found himself enjoying their conversations despite the fact that they continued to dance around the dangerousness that was between them without actually voicing anything about it. </p><p>Nothing more had come from their kills either. Jack hadn't asked Hannibal to come back to any crime scene since the butterfly shadow box display. Hannibal must have upset the man with how he had pulled Will away from the scene before it was done being processed, but even Hannibal had some consideration for Will’s mental stability. He did find himself caring for some of his patients in some aspects, though they were few and far between. Will’s just weighed a little more heavily. </p><p>Will did need help with his mental stability. Hannibal had thought the man was perfectly in control of himself after their second dinner when he found a much more relaxed Will, but after one crime scene Will had come to him in tatters. Hannibal had been surprised that the man had been able to drive at all. </p><p>Hannibal had had to cancel his afternoon appointments to take care of the man who could barely breathe through his tears. Body trembling and weak as it fell against Hannibal to keep himself on his feet. Will’s empathy had done more than enough damage that day. Instead of the killer, Will had found himself in the victim’s head. </p><p>A young girl who had had her achilles tendons cut in both legs, unable to walk. She crawled through a basement of broken glass until hands and legs were nothing but tatters just like Will’s mind. She was made to think she could escape before she was pulled back and used for pleasure and her throat was slashed. He didn’t finish until she was dead. Possibly not wanting to accept his preference of necrophilia. It was quite a morbid picture, even for Hannibal. </p><p>It took more than one glass of his best scotch and gentle words to calm Will down. Hannibal had spent hours pulling the information from Will and coaxing the man into some semblance of put togetherness, though he wasn’t together enough to go home. Will had spent that night in one of Hannibal’s guest rooms after having to have dinner shoved down his throat. </p><p>The nightmares had been something that Hannibal hadn’t necessarily been expecting. He should have had more foresight into the fact, but for some reason he had thought Will capable of handling them himself. That was until there was a knock at his bedroom door at three in the morning and he had groggily fetched his robe and opened his door to find a sweaty, twitchy man in the doorway. </p><p>Will’s behavior had been rather childlike, but Hannibal could in no way blame him. Not when Will had lived through that girl’s murder and sexual assault. Not when that was what his nightmares held. Somehow, despite how hard Hannibal tried to get Will back into his own bed, the man had ended up in Hannibal’s. A stuttering, shaky man curled up on the other side of his large bed. Other than waking up with the man tucked protectively into his side and quickly scrambling away the moment he had woken, nothing more had come from the incident. </p><p>That was the closest they had been since then. Will had taken special care to keep his distance from Hannibal in the several weeks that had passed. No more kisses, though the teasing hadn’t let up. No more touching, though the flirting was constant. Nothing physical and Hannibal could feel the embarrassment rolling off of Will anytime that Hannibal would touch the small of his back when passing in the kitchen. </p><p>Hannibal honestly wasn’t bothered by the lack of physicality between them. Their conversations were far more stimulating than any of Will’s advancements had been, though Hannibal would be remiss if he said that they hadn’t been enjoyable in their own right. Curiosity also pulled at the man as he continued the drive down the slowly becoming familiar roads. Would Will ever be brave enough to once more reach out? Hannibal wouldn’t make the move unless it became necessary, but he also wouldn’t turn it down should the chance arise. </p><p>Hannibal found himself pulling up to the driveway of that farmhouse in the middle of the field that was once more set adrift like a ship on a frozen lake from the lights pouring out of the windows. The snow was churned up from the dogs playing through it and Hannibal smiled lightly at the idea of Will’s cheeks pink with cold as he played with the mutts. </p><p>Dinner had rotated between their two homes respectfully, though Hannibal had been the one supplying dinner as Will hadn’t been lying about his skills in the kitchen. As much as Hannibal could endure a mac and cheese dish if it was made correctly, he did not much appreciate boxed noodles and powdered byproduct that was an orange color that cheese never could achieve. Not to mention that dearest Will had added hot dogs to the mix, an abomination upon another. </p><p>Hannibal also hadn’t been keen on the idea of seeing what type of Ramen Will liked to make. Certainly Hannibal could accomplish something much more satisfactory than a dish made in the microwave whose noodles would still be raw and Will had mentioned in an off comment something about canned green beans added to it. Lady Murasaki would surely roll in her grave if she caught wind of such a massacre. </p><p>Hannibal had immediately intervened and Will didn’t seem too put out by it. In fact, Hannibal was fairly certain that Will enjoyed Hannibal cooking for him and Hannibal had been sure to always bring enough for the man to have leftovers. Will didn’t eat properly, the least Hannibal could do to help would be to supply Will with at least two or three meals during the week. </p><p>Hannibal got from his car and pulled out his totes with ingredients in them, stepping past a car that he didn’t recognize. American made and rusted through. An older model. Maybe something from the 60’s if Hannibal had to guess. </p><p>Hannibal made his way up to the porch and opened the front door without knocking, greeted by loud barks and nails against hardwood as the large group of dogs rushed towards him. </p><p>“Guys!” came Will’s annoyed voice from somewhere further in the house, though it was coming closer with a pair of footsteps. “Stop crowding the door. I promise there’s no squirrels right now...” his voice trailed off and blue eyes landed on Hannibal’s face. “Oh,” Will muttered, surprise in his eyes. “Tss.” He waved the dogs away from Hannibal with a stern look that sent each of them to their beds near the fireplace. “I-I...” Will gave a deep breath and licked at his lips as he took one of the bags from Hannibal’s arms. </p><p>Hannibal glanced over the man who was still in a buttoned up, wrinkled flannel shirt, tie and dark jeans that could have passed for slacks if muddy paw prints weren’t on them. His glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose and his curls were a mess, looking as though fingers had been worked through them more than once. </p><p>“I take it that you forgot about dinner,” Hannibal supplied with a gentle smile, reaching out to adjust Will’s glasses back onto his nose and Will shrugged feebly. </p><p>“She kinda just showed up after work and the time got away from me,” Will answered softly. </p><p>“She?” Hannibal pressed, though he was pretty sure he could name who it was by just the car outside. Hannibal gave a grin and Will’s face dropped and he shook his head desperately. “Miss Katz,” Hannibal called, winding his way from the front room and through the house, towards the kitchen. Hannibal glanced around the room to find the young woman slouched back comfortably in a dining chair, a cold beer in her hand. Every inch of the table was covered in files and papers and pictures, the two of them having obviously been deep in conversation over a case. The Butcher case by the looks of the pictures. “What a pleasure to see you again.” </p><p>A large smile took over Beverly’s face and she quickly got to her feet, shooting a look over at Will who had followed after Hannibal, a look that said Will shouldn’t have been keeping secrets from her. “Hey, Dr. Hotass,” she greeted, tipping her beer towards him. “Good to see you too.” </p><p>“Please don’t refer to him like that,” Will begged in a groan as the bag he held was placed onto the counter. Hannibal’s bag joined the counter and he turned back to Beverly whose smile had somehow only grown, crooked and happy. “You were just leaving, weren’t you Bev?” The words were low and harsh and Beverly seemed to straighten up at them. </p><p>“I didn't realize the time,” she said, though her smile didn’t drop. She set her beer back down on the table and busied herself with cleaning up the table of the case work. “I don’t want to interrupt your date.” </p><p>“It’s not a date,” Will swiftly defended, arms folding over his chest.  </p><p>“Please stay, Miss Katz,” Hannibal offered only to receive an icy blue gaze and more of that dazzling toothy smile that seemed to warm up the small kitchen. “I have brought more than enough for three.” </p><p>“No,” Will stated firmly with a shake of his head, only causing the woman to giggle. </p><p>“If you want to be alone with Dr. Hotass, Pretty Boy, all you have to do is say so,” she shot back smuggly. </p><p>“N-No,” Will corrected, a hand going to his head. “No. I only-I only have two chairs.” It was a poor excuse and Hannibal smiled as he watched the conversation unfold. “There’s not enough places for her to sit. She can’t stay.” </p><p>“I can stand and eat at the same time, Will,” Hannibal said, only sending Will’s face into something pleading. Hannibal huffed out some laughter and began digging through the bags and emptying them on the counter. “It’s not that difficult of an action to accomplish.” </p><p>“Nah,” Beverly cut in with a shake of her head, the files all gathered up messily in her arms. “It’s ok. Really.” </p><p>“I insist,” Hannibal pushed with a kind smile. “I’m making <em> Croque Monsieurs </em> and a <em> Lyonnaise </em> salad. Dessert will be <em> Mousse Au Chocolat. </em>” </p><p>“You’re making ham grilled cheese sandwiches?” Will asked back in a grumble, causing Hannibal’s movements to falter for a moment as he let Will’s new game once more strike him far harder than it probably should have. Will had warned him, so why did it still come as a surprise each time Will made an off hand comment?</p><p>There was a snicker from Beverly who had snatched back up her beer, files once more forgotten on the table. She draped an arm around Will’s shoulder and tugged him close, much to the dislike on Will’s face. She leaned over, lips by his ear. “Don’t dumb down his food, Jack in the Box.” </p><p>“When have you ever been to Jack in the Box?” Will asked back bitterly. “They don’t exist-” </p><p>“I do travel around for my job, Will,” Beverly defended. “You could come with us if you weren’t such a stick in the mud.” </p><p>“I-” </p><p>Before Will had a chance to argue, Beverly’s beautifully coca cola brown eyes caught Hannibal’s gaze. “Need some help, Dr. Hotass?” </p><p>Hannibal let himself smile and he nodded. “Thank you Miss Katz.” Hannibal stepped aside as Beverly left Will and dug through one of the bags, beer forgotten on the counter. “Would you like to wash the lettuce for me?” </p><p>“Absolutely.” </p><p>Hannibal watched as Will gave a deep breath, lowering his head into his hands before his fingers tangled into his curls again. Water ran somewhere behind Hannibal, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. All of his attention was on the highly uncomfortable man beside the counter. Hannibal left his work behind and stepped over to Will, taking the empath’s arms in a firm grip. </p><p>Will glanced up in surprise. “I-I-I-”</p><p>“Go clean up, Will,” Hannibal instructed softly, ignoring the way that Will’s eyes darted to where the sink had gone silent. “You’ve had a hard day. Go take a shower and put on something comfortable. Dinner will be ready when you return.” </p><p>“Hannibal-” </p><p>“You’ll feel much better after a shower. I promise,” Hannibal insisted, pushing Will towards the door.</p><p>“I swear to God,” Will hissed as his feet followed Hannibal’s movements. “If I come back here and find Bev-” </p><p>Hannibal tutted with a small shake of his head, glancing back to the woman who was watching them curiously. “Honestly, Will. I can’t believe you think I would do something to Miss Katz.” There was a laugh from Beverly. “She is more than capable of handling someone like me, should the need arise.” </p><p>“Yes,” Beverly snorted, nodding her head, hip jutted to the side. “I’m more afraid of you, Pretty Boy, than I am of Dr. Hotass. I grew up with two brothers. One was on the chess team and cried at movies and the other could strut about in heels better than either my sister or me. Someone had to take care of them. Dr. Hotass got nothing on me.” </p><p>“Stop calling him that,” Will groaned, head tipping back and a pained expression on his face. </p><p>“I don’t think he minds much, Pretty Boy. He would have asked me to stop if he didn’t like it.” </p><p>“That’s not the point,” Will shot back with another moan. “You can’t just go about calling people-” </p><p>“I don’t mind, Will,” Hannibal assured with his own smile as he turned back to the man before him. Will fell silent, but his eyes were just as desperate as they had been since Hannibal had stepped through the door. “I find it rather flattering, if you must know the truth. Especially at my age.” </p><p>“See?” Beverly demanded with another laugh. </p><p>Will inhaled deeply before slowly nodding and heading towards the stairs for the second floor. Hannibal waited for the bathroom door to close before he turned his full attention back onto Beverly. Someone he hoped would be easier to get information from than Will was. </p><p>"I'm sorry," Beverly quickly apologized, her smile faltering slightly. "I really didn't mean to interrupt. If I knew you two were going to have dinner, I never would have-" </p><p>"You've done nothing wrong, Miss Katz," Hannibal stated as he pulled some pots and pans from one of the cabinets. "This is simply our weekly therapy session, nothing more." The pots and pans were placed on the stovetop. "I find that he is more open when he is somewhere he is comfortable." </p><p>"More open?" Beverly gave a snort of laughter. "He's Fort Knox. It's pulling teeth trying to get him to talk about anything other than work, unless we're working and then it's pulling teeth to get him to say anything at all." </p><p>"He is often overwhelmed by outside stimulus. I doubt he means to be rude." </p><p>“He’s just so easy to get a rile out of. I can’t stop from teasing him.” Beverly picked up her beer once more, taking another sip before setting it aside and heading to the fridge. “Did you want one? I doubt it’s anything as fancy as what you drink; it is only screw top beer, but...” Beverly trailed off and slapped another beer on the counter beside Hannibal. </p><p>Hannibal regarded it for a moment before he gave a kind smile to the woman and reached for it. “I make my own beer.” Beverly choked on her mouthful and coughed, a hand going to her mouth to catch the beer that spit from her lips. Her eyes were wide as she watched Hannibal open the beer bottle and take a sip. “Is there a problem, Miss Katz?” </p><p>“No wonder Pretty Boy has eyes for you,” she replied, quickly finding a towel on the oven door to wipe up the mess she had made. Hannibal added some butter and flour to a pot and turned on the heat, letting the butter melt. “I would have eyes for you too if you weren’t already taken, Dr. Hotass.” </p><p>“Taken?” Hannibal asked back, amused. How much had Will told her about him? Did Will really speak about him with reckless abandon just as Beverly was making it sound? “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you’re trying to imply.” Hannibal stirred together the butter and flour until it thickened and then poured out some milk to whisk into the pot. “Would you mind handing me the shredded cheese?” </p><p>Beverly obeyed, handing over two containers of shredded cheese before she leaned her hip against the counter with her arms folded over her chest. “Liar,” she accused with a laugh. “Just admit that you two are together. I’ve never seen him this happy before. And he never stops talking about you, at least to me. I think I’m the only one he talks to.” </p><p>“We are not together,” Hannibal clarified with a smile towards her. “He is simply my patient and it is strictly a favor for Jack.” </p><p>“How do Jack and you know each other?” </p><p>This wasn’t exactly how Hannibal had been expecting this conversation to go. He had been hoping to gain a little more information on the empath that was still upstairs and taking his own sweet time with whatever he was doing, as the shower water had not begun running as of yet. Hannibal could absolutely steer the conversation back around, but at the moment a give and take was what was needed. </p><p>“Would you mind toasting the bread for me?” Hannibal directed as he produced another mixing bowl to begin the vinaigrette for the salad. Beverly once more did as she was asked and Hannibal inhaled deeply, running through his mind to find the answer to give the woman. “He was a patient of mine a long time ago before I was a psychiatrist. I used to work in the ER. He came in with a gunshot wound.” </p><p>“He got himself shot?” Beverly snorted as she placed the toasted pieces of bread onto a plate for Hannibal. “Somehow it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve wanted to shoot him a few times myself.” </p><p>“He can be difficult at times,” Hannibal agreed, attention now going to where a pan with butter in it was heating up. He took the slices of bread and put the <em> Mornay </em>sauce on the bread. “His wife was charming enough for the both of them. I invited them for dinner while he was healing up because his wife didn’t have the time to cook for him while he was in recovery. We’ve been good friends since then.” </p><p>“Have you always just offered out your cooking like that?” </p><p>Hannibal gave a small nod of his head and placed the bread with the ham and cheese into the pan before reaching out for his rather cheap and sad excuse for beer to take another drink of it. “I try to help where I can. I’m sure my soul could use a little redemption.”</p><p>There was another scoff from Beverly. “Because you need saving.” </p><p>“You’d be surprised,” Hannibal answered, shooting the woman a teasing grin that she returned. “So, Will talks about me?” </p><p>Beverly rolled her eyes with that bright, crooked grin. “Doesn’t shut up about you is more like it. Doctor Lecter this, Doctor Lecter that. He’s read all of your medical journals. He’s obsessed.” Beverly’s smile dropped and Hannibal could only smile as he plated the <em> Croque Monsieurs </em>. He got a pot of water on the stove with salt and vinegar to begin it boiling. “Sorry. That wasn’t the best thing for me to-”</p><p>“You were only speaking the truth,” Hannibal defended, turning his attention to some thick cut bacon that he had already cut into small pieces. He added them to a frying pan and then began cutting up some shallots. They were added to the bacon with a sizzling hiss. “Miss Katz, would you like to toss the lettuce in the vinaigrette?” </p><p>“Only if you promise to stop calling me Miss Katz. That’s my mom’s name. I will not be referred to by it.” Her tone was teasing, but only caught Hannibal’s curiosity, once more sending them further away from Will. </p><p>“Your mother wasn’t married?” Hannibal pulled an egg from the carton and added it to a small bowl that he had fetched. Once it was in place, he stirred the boiling water and let the egg drop into the small formed vortex before removing the pan from the heat to allow the egg to cook. </p><p>“Nah. My siblings and I are all from one mister, but said mister was flighty at best.” </p><p>Hannibal added the bacon and shallots to the salad and separated the food between the three plates. With a careful hand and a slotted spoon, Hannibal pulled the poached egg from the water and let it drain for a moment before placing it over the salad on one plate and then getting fresh water to repeat the action. </p><p>“It smells amazing,” Beverly commented with a deep inhale. “Do you cook often for Pretty Boy?” </p><p>“Only once a week,” Hannibal supplied as he started to fill the sink with warm, soapy water to begin to wash the dishes. “I try to make sure he has enough for leftovers. I’m sure you notice that he hardly eats and when he does it is processed and in no way nutritional.” </p><p>“I’ve...” Beverly sighed. “I haven’t put much mind to it, in all honesty. He’s always been that way. Since we were teens he hasn’t eaten properly. I just thought it was kinda his thing. I didn’t want to say anything against it. His dad was enough of a hard ass, he didn’t need me being one too.” </p><p>Hannibal paused in his dish washing and regarded Beverly for a moment. She was roughly Will’s age, maybe a year or two older. With the way that she spoke to Will, she sounded more like an older sister than a friend. </p><p>“You two were close in your youth?” he asked softly. </p><p>Beverly nodded thoughtfully, once more resting against the counter and playing with the beer bottle that had once more found its way into her hand. “We went to high school together for about a year, maybe less, before his dad moved them away for some job in Connecticut if I remember right. We didn’t really have any classes together. I was an Orch Dork and he was a loner.” </p><p>“Orch Dork?” Hannibal questioned, the words odd on his tongue and Beverly must have found the same sentiment because she laughed. </p><p>“Yeah. I play the violin. Or at least, I used to. Wasn’t any good and I hated wearing dresses for performances.” Beverly gave a small shrug. “Anyways.” She inhaled deeply, head tipped to the side in contemplation. “He was getting pushed around in the halls one day. Some kid stole his glasses and smashed them. I kinda jumped in. He didn’t need me to. Not really. He has a wicked right hook.” </p><p>“He punched the bully?” Hannibal gave the woman another once over, watching her nod before he fetched the second egg to add to the salad on another plate. He filled the pot with water once more and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. Dishes were washed and drying and all that was needed was this last egg and dinner would be ready. Then he could work on dessert. </p><p>“He has this little, well...” Beverly pushed herself from the counter, finishing off her beer. “I don’t want to say a violent streak, but he can take care of himself. I guess it comes with the territory of what he grew up with. Has he mentioned anything about his family?” Hannibal shook his head in answer and Beverly continued on softly. “His dad was a raging alcoholic. He couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few months. He would beat Will too.” </p><p>“He was abusive?” Hannibal’s eyes flickered over to the doorway to make sure that the empath hadn’t decided to come back yet. The water running upstairs had turned off and they wouldn’t have long before Will returned to the kitchen. </p><p>“Yeah. I never witnessed it. Will wouldn’t let me go over to his house. I doubt it was even a house. He told me once that he slept on the floor and it took me getting him drunk to even get that much out of him. But he would come to school with bruises and cuts and always had some story about tripping or something ridiculous for the excuse.” Beverly waved her hand in the air before letting the empty beer bottle find its way into the trash with a clinking sound. “There was one time that was really bad. He got called down to the principal’s office and-”</p><p>“And my dad was given a court date and I was put in the hospital for a week to recover from several broken ribs and some internal bleeding,” a voice said from the doorway, a tired looking Will Graham entering the kitchen. </p><p>Hannibal eyed the man carefully. His curls were damp and stuck to his face, his blue eyes dull and hidden behind his glasses. His face was clean shaven and he looked years younger, only making Hannibal feel all that much older. He wore another flannel shirt and jeans, keeping in portrayal the Graham that Beverly had come to expect from the man. </p><p>“Will, I-” </p><p>“It’s ok,” Will assured Beverly with a small smile. “He has to figure it out somehow.” Will inhaled deeply and his eyes slid shut. “Smells wonderful, Hannibal.” </p><p>Hannibal’s lips tipped into a smile and he nodded. “Thank you Will. How about you two grab your plates? Mine is nearly done. No sense in letting the food go cold.” </p><p>“Don’t mind if I do,” Beverly said with a grin, snatching up both plates and holding one out to Will, who stepped forward and took it from her grip. Beverly already had a mouthful of the sandwich before she was seated at the table, the bread giving a satisfying crunch as she bit into it. “God,” she moaned, voice muffled around the bite. “How much do I have to pay you to come be a private chef for me?” </p><p>“Bev,” Will warned softly, eyes down on his plate and feet having not moved in the slightest. </p><p>“You do not have to wait for me, Will,” Hannibal said with a smile as he finally fetched his own poached egg for his salad. “Please, sit. Eat.” When Hannibal turned back around with his own plate, he found Will still standing at the counter. Hannibal stared at the man for a moment before catching the expectant look in Will’s eyes. This was his house and Will wasn’t about to let his guest stand and eat at the counter and Hannibal knew he wouldn’t win the fight against the empath. “Very well,” he whispered, finding his way over to the creaking old dining table and sitting down. “You have a lovely car, Beverly.” </p><p>“Thank you,” she said around a too big of a bite of salad. “It’s a Dodge Charger.” </p><p>“A classic?” Hannibal questioned. </p><p>“If I can ever find the time to fix it up.” Beverly set her food aside and shot a look over to Will who was silently munching on his sandwich without a word. “I’ve asked Will to look at the engine for me, but he won’t. It knocks.” </p><p>“I fix boat motors, not car engines,” Will defended sharply. “Your spark plugs are probably bad. Or you should hope that’s what’s making the engine knock.”</p><p>“See?” Beverly taunted, brows raised and a snide side smile on her lips. “You could totally help me fix her up.” </p><p>“I’m not going to help you fix up that rust bucket, Bev. I’m too busy as is.” </p><p>“Yeah. Teaching and taking care of dogs who love you must be hard.” Beverly smirked with a laugh and Hannibal stayed silent, watching the sharp remarks being shot back and forth. Hannibal couldn’t exactly decide if this was really Will and Beverly could just throw him off that easily or if he was playing someone else. Outside of their one coffee stop and the crime scenes, Hannibal had never seen Will out in public to observe how he really acted. “Please help me Will. You loved General Lee.”</p><p>“General Lee?” Hannibal found himself asking, glancing between the two of them. </p><p>“Yeah. From Dukes of Hazzard,” Beverly answered. “We used to watch the reruns when we did homework. That car was awesome. That’s what I’m trying to fix mine up to be.” </p><p>“Bev,” Will grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “The man doesn’t even own a TV. I doubt he’s ever seen Dukes of Hazzard.”  </p><p>Hannibal let out a light chuckle, calling suddenly curious blue eyes to his face. “I am not completely inept when it comes to television. I do happen to know what Dukes of Hazzard is.” </p><p>Will’s jaw dropped and Beverly let out a loud laugh. “Dr. Hotass is racking up some points, Pretty Boy. You better watch out. He might be my new best friend if you aren’t careful.” </p><p>“Close your mouth, Will. You’ll catch flies,” Hannibal instructed, gathering up a forkful of salad.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to invite her to stay,” Will grumbled as he waved goodbye to Bev from the front room window. </p><p>“It would have been rude to show her out,” Hannibal muttered. He pulled out a link of sausage from a paper bag and broke it into pieces before letting a greedy Buster swipe the piece from his open palm. He quickly broke off another piece and held it out to bouncing Zoe. “I quite enjoyed our evening with her.” </p><p>“Look.” Hannibal glanced up as Will gave a sigh and turned away from the window, hands shoving themselves into his pockets. “If you desperately want to know things about me, just ask. Don’t go through my coworker to figure it out.” </p><p>“Did your father abuse you?” Hannibal asked bluntly as he fed the last bit of sausage to a rather weary Winston who still hadn’t seemed to gain a liking of Hannibal like the other dogs had. At a harsh silence from Will, Hannibal pushed himself from his knees and turned to find Will rubbing at his eyes, head turned down to the floor. “You failed to mention it when we last spoke about your family.” </p><p>“I wonder why,” Will snapped back before he inhaled deeply and straightened up. Hannibal waited patiently, letting Will do what he needed to do to calm himself. Hannibal had found silences a good way to get Will to speak. There were times where they could sit for hours in silence, but that was when no conversation was taking place. If there was a set conversation, then Hannibal discovered that Will needed to fill said silences. He couldn’t sit in them. “I’m sorry,” Will apologized softly. “Work has been stressful and having her here with you, I just... She’s the only one who knows all of this stuff about me and I would really rather tell you on my own time. There’s a reason I don’t tell you everything out of the gate.” </p><p>“Abuse can be traumatic and a difficult subject to broach,” Hannibal offered gently as he folded up the empty paper bag and placed it with the rest of his things by the front door for when he would be leaving. “I wasn’t aware that that was the direction the subject would take, Will. I didn’t outright ask.” </p><p>“He abused me,” Will answered softly, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze and kicking at the floorboards. “I could fight him off sometimes. He had to be staggering drunk though. He was stronger than me.” </p><p>“How old were you when you killed him?” </p><p>That pulled Will’s attention from the floor immediately. Hannibal waited for the myriad of emotions to flicker over Will’s face before something almost nostalgic settled across his features. He straightened his back and his shoulders, looking once more taller than he had when Beverly had been there. He reached up and pulled his glasses from his nose, folding them and shoving them into his breast pocket before working open the top several buttons on his shirt with a musing sort of breath. </p><p>“I was a freshman,” he finally answered, voice far steadier than it had been a moment ago, but it still didn’t give Hannibal any insight as to whether Will had been playing another person with Beverly or if Beverly really could make him tense up. </p><p>“Fourteen, fifteen?” Hannibal inquired. Something akin to surprise filled his body at a shake of Will’s head. </p><p>“I was barely thirteen.” Will gave Hannibal a coy smile before bending over slightly to pet Winston for a moment. “I skipped three grades. I probably could have skipped more. It wasn’t difficult, not when I have an eidetic memory. It’s not photographic. I probably could have graduated high school earlier if I did have a photographic memory.” Will gave a small laugh. He stood himself upright and pointed for Winston to return to where the other dogs were all resting in their beds. Winston obeyed and Will’s eyes once more returned to Hannibal. “I thought that if I skipped enough grades then I could get out of my house faster. But the laws don’t care if you’re smart. They only care if you’re eighteen.” </p><p>“You had a different reaction when I mentioned purposefully failing classes,” Hannibal mused, stepping a little closer to Will. “Did you purposefully fail your classes?” </p><p>“When I got to university I did,” Will admitted as he turned away from Hannibal to head back towards the kitchen. “Do you think the mousse is set yet?” </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal said firmly, but Will didn’t seem to pay much attention to the sternness in Hannibal’s voice. Will just pushed on and towards the fridge, opening the freezer to look over the several servings of chocolate mousse that Hannibal had made that Beverly had declined to partake in. “What made you fail your classes?”</p><p>“I lost track of what I was doing with my life. I didn’t have any direction. I was sixteen. I couldn’t even drive a car yet, let alone see above the steering wheel. How was I supposed to be making life altering decisions?” Will glanced over his shoulder. “Please tell me they’re done.” </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal answered with a roll of his eyes that only had Will smiling. He was infuriating. What was Hannibal meant to do with something like him? The longer they spent time together the more Hannibal realized just what a mess he had caused for himself. A pit of quicksand that he had willingly thrown himself into without realizing the gravity of the situation. “Why did you kill your father, Will?” </p><p>Will was silent as he pulled out two tulip shaped dessert glasses with the chocolate mousse in them. He set them on the counter and got out two spoons, but stopped when Hannibal made his way over to the fridge. </p><p>Had the boy honestly never had a proper mousse before? Did they really have to work that hard on bettering Will? Hannibal absolutely would if they were going to make it through this mistake they had partaken in. Hannibal really should have killed Will when he had the chance. He should have killed Will at dinner that first night. Hannibal should have done a lot of things that he didn’t do simply because he liked Will. </p><p>Will was intriguing and fascinating and for the first time in years Hannibal found himself interested in something. A new little thing for him to tinker with that could fight back and think for itself. A smart, young thing that’s quick tongue and the way he spouted his thoughts out for the world to see stayed Hannibal’s hands. </p><p>Hannibal pulled the freshly made whipped cream from the fridge and added some to each of the desserts before shaving bits of a chocolate bar with a potato peeler over the top for curious eyes to watch. Hannibal held out one of the spoons to Will who slowly took it. </p><p>“I didn’t know that’s how they did that,” Will muttered, dipping the spoon into one of the glasses and pulling it back out to inspect carefully. “You make cooking look so easy.” </p><p>“It is easy,” Hannibal said gently, taking up his own spoon to partake in the dessert. </p><p>“I shoved him down a flight of stairs.” </p><p>Hannibal’s spoon stopped, suspended in the chocolate mixture and he looked up to Will who placed the spoon he held into his mouth. Will closed his eyes with a small breath, taking his time to clean the spoon fully before he released it from his mouth. </p><p>“We lived on the top floor of these really wretched apartment complexes. He was drunk like normal, it was cold and the stairs were icy. It wasn’t a difficult thing to pass off as an accident.” Will paused as he took another bite, appreciation on his face. “This is really good. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like this before.”</p><p>“I normally like to add Amaretto to it, but I unfortunately forgot to bring some and your liquor cabinet is less than satisfactory.” </p><p>Will laughed around the spoon still trapped in his mouth, looking down at the counter. “I said I was never going to drink because of my dad, but I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it Doctor Lecter?” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply and finally found his wherewithal to withdraw his spoon from his dessert and take a bite of the smooth chocolate. “Was your father your first, Will?” </p><p>The answer was soft, barely audible. “No.” </p><p>“Who-” </p><p>“How old were you, Hannibal?” Will asked back, spoon hitting the counter with a clink, dessert forgotten as all of Will’s undivided attention landed on Hannibal. Hannibal frowned at the question and shook his head, only receiving a disbelieving smile from Will. “Give me something to work with here, Doctor Lecter.” </p><p>Hannibal leaned against the counter and took another bite. <em>Quid pro quo</em>. That was what Will had said, wasn’t it? Hannibal had to give as much as he was taking. Will wouldn’t be the only one sharing and he was certain to close up at a moment’s hesitation from Hannibal. </p><p>“I was eight.” </p><p>Will’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat as if he might be embarrassed. “Oh,” he said softly. “Was it-was it like an abuse thing like me?” </p><p>“I suppose you could call it that,” Hannibal said carefully. He wasn’t about to give Will everything. He wasn’t ready to give Will the details of a past he still had trouble coming to terms with. He wasn’t ready for Will to know what his nightmare consisted of. He could see the river of questions fill Will’s eyes, but before the empath could ask, Hannibal cut him off. “Who was your first Will?” </p><p>“In bed?” he asked cockily. It was obvious that he hadn’t liked the conversation flipping back to him so suddenly and he wasn’t about to let it go without something personal given back to him. </p><p>Hannibal’s brow rose at the question and he pursed his lips. “If that’s something you feel is necessary to share, though I am more than certain that you know exactly what I mean.” </p><p>“Who was your first?” </p><p>“My piano teacher in Paris, if you must know,” Hannibal replied back smoothly, enjoying the way a blush quickly filled Will’s cheeks. Hannibal chuckled. He could pull at this string a little more before the night was through. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t curious how far this particular line of conversation could go before Will needed the conversation to return to safer subject matter. “Does the topic of sex bother you, Will? You look the slightest bit flustered.” </p><p>“How-” Will cleared his throat and busied himself with obtaining another spoonful of mousse. He brought it to his mouth, eyes meeting Hannibal’s. “How old were you?” </p><p>“Fourteen.” </p><p>Will choked on the bite and sputtered. He inhaled deeply and coughed, a hand covering his mouth. “So young?” Hannibal once more stayed silent, letting Will continue on in whatever way he saw fit. “I don’t even think I knew what boobs were when I was fourteen. I hadn’t thought about anyone like that at fourteen.” </p><p>“It wasn’t a woman, Will.” Hannibal couldn’t help the amusement at the brilliant red that painted Will’s delicate skin. “If you’re worried about my innocence or something of the likes, I was the one who initiated and manipulated it.” </p><p>It hadn’t been a difficult thing to accomplish. The man had been in a rather unfortunate marriage that had ended with him becoming a lonely widower with two small children at home and needing money on the side. Hannibal had simply been willing to offer said money without his uncle’s knowledge. What was a few extra euros missing from his uncle’s wallet? The man had two children to feed. </p><p>“How old was he?” </p><p>Hannibal hummed as if in thought and Will rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Twenty six.” </p><p>Will nodded, taking in the information carefully before he spoke again, apprehension in his tone. “Beverly was my first. It was one of those <em> let's lose it together </em> kind of things.” Will’s head tipped back with a groan. “God, she would kill me if she knew I was telling you this.” </p><p>“She’s quite a few years older than you. You two didn’t engage when you were in school together, did you?” Hannibal found himself asking as if he had any right to judge. As if Will being thirteen was any better than him being fourteen. Why did he truly care so much? It wasn’t like it truly mattered. Not in the long haul of things, whatever these things were. They really needed to discuss what they were, but this was slightly more interesting. </p><p>“God no, though she did get me drunk at thirteen.” Will gave another light laugh and shook his head to dismiss the idea. “No. I ran into her during university. I was traveling around, trying to figure things out. Came back here for a few weeks and we ran into each other. And she’s only like three years older than me. Not twelve.” Will pushed himself from the counter and took his now empty dish to the sink, turning on the water to get it hot. Hannibal turned and placed his own finished dishes on the counter beside the sink. “It was awkward and she pretty much laughed the whole time. It was a mess.” </p><p>“You’re still friends,” Hannibal pointed out carefully. </p><p>Will’s face pinched and he gave a noncommittal shrug. “Coworkers,” he corrected. “We tolerate each other. I don’t have friends.” </p><p>“Is that something we should explore during your sessions?” </p><p>Will snorted and shook his head, a smile bright on his face. “We’re not actually doctor and patient, Hannibal. Our sessions are strictly to look good for Jack.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded in understanding and gave a light hum, a hand reaching out to rest against the small of Will’s back. Will stiffened slightly with his smile dropping, but didn’t make any indication for Hannibal to move away, so Hannibal didn’t. He flattened his hand out, his hold firm on the empath. “If they’re strictly to save face, we don’t actually have to meet Will. I can send him the weekly bill and we can end our relationship here.” There was a hint of dislike that pushed its way across Will’s face before his expression returned to something neutral. Interesting. He enjoyed their dinners as much as Hannibal did, though Hannibal couldn’t be exactly sure to the extent or reasoning as to why. “Beverly’s been through a lot with you.” </p><p>Will exhaled deeply through his nose and gave a nod in answer. His hands picked up one of the two glasses and ran it under the steaming stream of water. “I was ten,” he muttered as he worked, subject change sharp but not one that threw Hannibal off. Hannibal stepped closer, looking over Will’s shoulder to watch him wash. Will didn’t seem to notice the advancement or he didn’t feel threatened by it because he continued speaking as he worked. “His name was Ethan Pats. He...”</p><p> Will sighed and placed the now clean glasses aside on the dish rack. His hand shut off the water and both of them took the edge of the sink. Hannibal let his hand slip onto Will’s shoulder. Will tensed for a moment before he slowly relaxed, head bowing forward. “He was awful. He was maybe fourteen. He kept touching this little girl. She was like six, I think.” One of Will’s hands left the sink and went to his temple as if to hold himself together. “I was wandering through the forest by the creek and came across them. I hid behind a tree. He told her that she couldn’t tell anyone what he was doing to her and I just-I-I wanted to throw up. It was absolutely horrifying to be trapped in her head. I couldn’t take it.” </p><p>Hannibal stepped a little closer until Will’s back was pressed flush against him. Will exhaled shakily and leaned into Hannibal’s body for support. “What did you do, Will?” Hannibal asked in a whisper beside Will’s ear. How easy it was to unbalance Will. How easy to topple the man. </p><p>“I led him into the forest by telling him that he could touch me. I took him to this old abandoned shack. It was rotten, falling over. Inside was a mess. I picked up a two by four and I hit him.” Will’s hands became fists and he inhaled sharply. “Over and over and over. They would have had to use his fingerprints to identify him or something. His face was gone by the time the soreness set into my arms and the wood fell from my hands.”</p><p>Hannibal could see it perfectly as if he were present and there was something so fantastically glorious about a younger Will taking out justice on someone deserving. Those unruly curls damp with sweat from hard work. Blue eyes bright and alive. Body painted in red from splatter. Chest heaving as young lungs sucked in air. Mind whirling as it tried to take in exactly what it had done to another human being. </p><p>“You left him there, didn’t you?” Hannibal asked softly, his free hand taking Will’s hip, his other still firm in its grip on Will’s shoulder. Will’s eyes fluttered closed and he gave a single nod. “Did you ever go back?” </p><p>“We moved the next day.” Will gave a shrug. “My own father didn’t even notice me coming home covered in blood. He was upset that I hadn’t been home to fix dinner.” There was a small laugh from Will, something strangled and in the back of his throat. “As far as I know it's still unsolved. I haven’t looked into it for a few years.”</p><p>“And what happened to you when your father passed?” </p><p>Will glanced over his shoulder and Hannibal was met with shining blue eyes. Will gave a faint smile and shook his head. “I think that’s enough about me tonight, Doctor Lecter. I need to make sure you have more reasons to continue seeing me. I can’t have you diagnosing all of my mental issues in one night, can I?” </p><p>“I fear, dear boy,” Hannibal answered softly, those blue eyes electric in their stare. “That you will always fascinate me.” </p><p>“What are we, Hannibal?” Will’s voice was a whisper. “What is this?”</p><p>Hannibal was silent for a moment in thought. He had been asking himself the same question for the last several weeks. Lovers was so far out in left field that there wasn’t even a hint of meaning to it. Friends was too far forward, but acquaintances was too impartial. </p><p>“Interpersonal attraction,” Hannibal finally answered, causing Will’s lips to tip up with a small laugh. A pleasant little sound that Hannibal had come to quite enjoy from the man when it was present. </p><p>“Birds of a feather flock together?” Will asked back. </p><p>“I was leaning more towards opposites attract.” </p><p>There was a smirk. “Are you attracted to me, Doctor Lecter?” </p><p>Hannibal smiled and the hand on Will’s shoulder reached out to brush at a curl from Will’s blue eyes. “I can’t figure you out, dear Will,” Hannibal said, his fingers brushing over Will’s freshly shaven jaw, skin silky soft. “Is this who you really are, or is it one of the many other personas you give off?”</p><p>Will’s smile faltered for a moment before it returned. “I’m not sure.” Will shrugged and pushed into Hannibal to make enough room for him to escape. “I don’t know what’s me and what belongs to other people. I don’t think I’ve ever known.” </p><p>“Are you like this when you’re alone?” Hannibal turned and his eyes followed Will’s movements as Will went to his bar and made a careful glass of amber liquid. </p><p>“Would you like one?” </p><p>“No, thank you.” </p><p>Will nodded, lifting the glass up to his lips, but he didn’t take a drink. Instead he exhaled heavily through his nose and lowered the glass back to the bar. Hannibal stood in silence, eyes on Will’s back. Hannibal hadn’t thought it that difficult of a question to answer, but Will’s stiff quiet filled the house with enough uneasiness that several of his dogs poked their heads around the corner of the kitchen. Winston was the only one brave enough to enter the room and settle himself at Will’s side. </p><p>The smile on Will’s face was kind and gentle and he lowered himself down to his knees to ruffle Winston’s ears. The stiffness didn’t let up and Hannibal waited patiently for a moment more, but when no answer came, he moved his way over to where Will sat, arms folded over his chest as the man continued to pet Winston. </p><p>“Will?” </p><p>There was another deep and contemplating inhale from the man, but his attention didn’t return to Hannibal, as infuriating as it was. Hannibal found his patience wearing thin, something he seemed to have very little of around Will. </p><p>“I’m not sure I’m truly anyone or anything when I am alone,” Will answered softly, rubbing at Winston’s belly as the dog dropped to the ground. The answer left Hannibal in silence. Of every direction Will’s answer could have taken, Hannibal had not been ready for such an admission. “I feel nothing or very close to nothing when I am truly alone. I’ve come to depend on others for the best way to interpret situations. I become others when they are present. It’s the safest place for someone like me. But you also can’t reduce me to a set of influences. I’m not the product of anything.” </p><p>Was he purposefully trying to keep himself uncategorized? Was he playing off of Hannibal? Was he reading into Hannibal’s own ability to keep himself from being labeled any one thing? </p><p>“Do you channel me when we’re together?” Hannibal asked curiously. He hadn’t been wrong during their first real conversation when he had said that he couldn’t turn off his observations just like Will couldn’t turn off his empathy. It was always there, always constant. Why would now be any different? </p><p>“I suppose I pull on a bit of your confidence.” Will let Winston up and gave a laugh when the dog licked at his face. Will gently pushed Winston away and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his cheek clean. “But I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with you.” </p><p>Hannibal let his arms fall back to his sides as he regarded the man still playing with the dog on the floor. He wished that he knew what to say to that. Hannibal always knew how to respond to anything that came his way, yet he found himself utterly silent. </p><p>Will pressed a kiss to Winston’s head and then motioned for him to return to where the others had all gone back to the front room. Will returned to his feet and finally took a drink of the whisky he had poured out for himself. </p><p>“I often cause you to fall silent, Doctor Lecter.” Will smiled and finished off his glass before making his way over to where Hannibal still stood quietly. His blue eyes flickered over Hannibal for a moment and Hannibal had to fight the unnerving feeling that he was naked in front of the man. There was something in the way that Will looked over him, the same way that Will had looked over his butterfly display, something that undressed Hannibal and left him bare. “I unnerve you. I unsteady you. You don’t like it.” The words were matter of fact. </p><p>“I am intrigued by you,” Hannibal corrected in some small sort of effort to keep a hold of the situation. </p><p>“Obsessively.” Will reached out his hands and Hannibal froze as they straightened his askew tie. When had it gone askew? Hannibal, under any other circumstance, would have noticed his tie out of place, but Will wasn’t any other circumstance. “And I thought that I was a unique cocktail of neurosis and personality disorders. I heard Beverly mention how obsessive I was with you.” </p><p>“She said something of the sort,” Hannibal agreed, throat constricted and suddenly rather dry. Will’s hands hadn't moved from Hannibal’s tie, fingers gently flattening it against Hannibal’s chest. “Have you been obsessive?” </p><p>“I don’t consider research of you as obsessive when you barely speak of yourself.” Will’s head cocked to the side and his grin was brilliantly bright. “I had to know what I was getting myself into before I picked you.” </p><p>“Picked me,” Hannibal repeated carefully, weighing each letter on his tongue. “Humor me, if you would dear Will.” Will gave a small nod in answer, fingers still playing with the silk of Hannibal’s tie, tracing the jacquard weave. The fabric had been pulled from its confinement of his waistcoat, the deep red looking nealy like blood against Will’s delicately pale fingers and Hannibal wondered what those fingers would really look like dripping blood. “Why me?” </p><p>“You could see me,” Will answered, voice steady and smooth. “No one else would be able to. Not like you. You’re like me.” There was a small tug on the fabric and Hannibal leaned into the pull. “You might not have an empathy disorder, but you can see things. Observe things. Dissect things. You can get inside of my head just as easily as I can get inside of yours and you won’t be frightened of the things hiding in the depths of my mind, Hannibal.” </p><p>Hannibal blinked at the distance that had shrunk between them without his knowing. What was it about Will’s words that kept him so distracted that he couldn’t even notice the way that Will had practically closed the space between them? How had he not noticed the way that his neck was beginning to ache from the pull of his tie? A pull that had brought the man stooping down nearly to Will’s height. </p><p>“And if I’m not frightened, then what do I see there, Will?” </p><p>“Ah,” Will muttered with a small nod as if praising Hannibal for the question. “You find it beautiful. The same way I find your darkness beautiful, Hannibal.” Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, but Will continued on before he could. “I know that that is not all that you are. There’s more to you that I have yet to discover, but the parts that I have discovered I marvel at. You’re like artwork by Jacques-Louis David. I could sit and stare at you for hours and be pleasantly surprised every time I found a new detail in the paint.” </p><p>“The most beautiful quality of a true friendship is to understand and be unstood with absolute clarity.” Hannibal found himself whispering, unable to make the words rise in volume despite how badly he wished his words were louder.  If he could only control his voice then maybe he could snatch himself back out of those blue depths that could somehow find all of his secrets. </p><p>“Are we friends now, Doctor Lecter?” Will teased lightly, adding a bit more pressure to the tug against Hannibal’s tie. “I hadn’t expected our relationship to take that drastic of a jump over two fingers of whiskey, both of which were drunk by me.” </p><p>Before Hannibal could stop it, a light smile covered his lips and he chuckled. “I doubt there is a name for what we are exactly. We defy category, dear Will.” </p><p>There was a pleasant little hum from Will. “You call me that a lot.” </p><p>“Will is your name,” Hannibal pointed out, doing his best to deflect exactly where this conversation was leading them. Exactly down a path that Hannibal wasn’t sure he could pull himself back from. Not tonight. Not with the new insight into Will’s wonderfully peculiar mind and past and with the inebriating curiosity that was fogging his own head. How far could Will’s ensnaring blue eyes truly see him? </p><p>Will pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly shook his head, his now dry curls unruly in their chocolate, cinnamon highlighted halo around his head. “I know we don’t spend much time together around other people, but I have never once heard you call another human being dear.” </p><p>“There are very few to which the sentiment can apply to.” </p><p>“And I just so happen to be significant enough?” </p><p>Hannibal shook his head and received a frown from the profiler. “You must overcome these delusions that are disguising your reality.” </p><p>“Disguising?” Will’s face turned to one of dislike and he released his hold on Hannibal’s tie. “I know exactly what my reality is, Hannibal.” Will took a step back and Hannibal was immediately overwhelmed with how cold his body became at the lack of closeness. "I might be fucked up, but I'm not delusional."</p><p>Hannibal straightened himself up, rubbing at the back of his neck that had an ache settling into it from how it had been held at a rather uncomfortable position. “Will, I didn’t mean-”</p><p>“Thank you for dinner.” Will gave a disappointed sigh. “It was perfect as ever.” </p><p>The dismissal of Hannibal was light, but not unclear. Hannibal had outstayed his welcome. Hannibal gave a small nod and frowned, looking over the now passive and ignoring man before him. Hannibal moved past Will, who turned to show Hannibal out like a good host would, though Hannibal was certain that Will wanted to do anything other than the sort. </p><p>“I will see you next week then,” Hannibal muttered when he reached the door and stooped to pick up his belongings. </p><p>“I’ll meet you at your office,” Will stated firmly, causing Hannibal to pause. </p><p>Formal and impersonal. That was the direction that their relationship had suddenly taken, where it honestly should have begun and stayed. So why did the words cut Hannibal so deeply? </p><p>“As you wish." </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hannibal glanced at his phone and sighed at the name on the screen. The name had once been something of a light enjoyment to Hannibal, but after finding the four missed calls since he had stepped into and out of the shower, the name only brought with it a sense of responsibility that he didn’t want to delve into today. </p><p>To save face of being called a hypocrite for being rude, Hannibal made sure the towel was fastened around his hips before he pulled his phone from the countertop and answered the call. </p><p>“It’s a little early for this today, Jack,” Hannibal muttered with a small sigh as he pulled his toothbrush to him and added toothpaste to the bristles. </p><p>“My work never sleeps,” Jack mumbled, voice strained and tired and Hannibal’s brows rose at the way Jack sounded already absolutely done with whatever he was dealing with. “I’m sure you have restless patients.”</p><p>“Are you calling about one of those said patients?” </p><p>“I am.” </p><p>Hannibal sighed and set his toothbrush aside and turned to lean against the counter, one hand folding across his chest for his other elbow to rest on. “Jack, I have too many appointments today. I’ve already told you that I can’t just drop everything and run every time that Will needs something. As much as I would like to be there for my patients twenty-four seven, I can’t. It’s not possible and Will is not an exception to the rule.” </p><p>There was a deep and pained sigh. “I understand. Have a good day Doctor.” </p><p>“Goodbye Jack.” </p><p>Hannibal ended the call and set his phone back on the counter, running a hand through his slowly drying hair with a long exhale that was followed by an inhale that he allowed to fill the expansions of his chest completely before it was released. </p><p>The words betrayed him. He had never wanted to so badly drop everything and run to a person’s side and the feeling made the breath he had taken seem like it wasn’t enough. His chest clenched and he did his best to push another deep round of inhales and exhaled through the tightness to try to break it up. </p><p>This was new. Utterly and completely new. Never had there been a pull so strongly on his bones. Never had he ever felt a tug that begged him to move, to rise to action. Hannibal’s eyes closed tightly and he shook his head. That wasn’t quite true and he cursed himself for how he had pushed that one other person away from him to keep himself safe and his nightmares at bay. </p><p>The only other person in the entirety of the world that had elicited the same emotions from him had been his younger sister, but he didn’t have the time today to allow her memory to take up his time. Once she got a hold of him, sometimes it would take him days to resurface and he couldn’t afford to let that happen at the moment. </p><p>There was another ringing from his phone and Hannibal glanced over to the device to find an unknown number. As much as he didn’t want to answer it, he picked up the phone and placed it to his ear. </p><p>“Doctor Lecter,” he muttered into the receiver, free hand rubbing at his eyes. </p><p>“Hey Dr. Hotass,” a perky voice said from the other side of the line. Hannibal straightened up a bit at the voice. “Sorry about calling, but your number was just a Google away.” </p><p>“What can I do for you Beverly?” </p><p>“I...” There was another sigh over the line that was pained and Hannibal winced slightly. Was it really that bad? “Look, I normally wouldn’t ask something like this from someone I barely know, but can you please come to the scene? I-I know Jack already said you-” </p><p>“How bad is it?” Hannibal asked as he turned back to the sink to find his waiting toothbrush. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Yours is the only madness that makes sense to me. It helps me understand my own.” </p><p>― Nav K. Samir</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                          </p><hr/><p>Hannibal could only bring himself to stare at the art before him. That was what it was. Macabre as it was, it was art. It was also no doubt by Will’s own hand. The same Will who stood at the outskirts of the taped off police line, by the door to the art exhibit and refused to move a step closer.  </p><p>Will might as well have been a work of art himself, hung on a wall or displayed like a statue. Still, unreservedly quiet. His bluebell eyes were enchanting, delicate and like the flower his gaze was never direct. It preferred to shy earthbound in a strict focus with the hardwood flooring of the gallery. He hadn’t even so much as acknowledged Hannibal’s presence when Hannibal had entered the room. Not even Beverly could pull an emotion from the man, informing Hannibal that Will had taken one look at the body and had been comatose ever since.  </p><p>Hannibal wanted nothing more than to be upset with the obvious display of childness from the man, but the beauty of the display before him held him suspended in awe and disbelief at the meaning behind it. Will was still upset from dinner the week previous. That much was obvious, but he wondered how the man had turned his anger into something so delicate. Odette had been orchestrated perfectly, but this was another level all together. </p><p>A frame made of a mocha colored dark walnut was mounted on the wall. Within the frame was the bust of a woman, her back to the world, but her head turned to the side to see the profile of her face and head that had been shaved smooth. Her skin was a ghostly white as if dusted in moonbeams save for where her back was split open down the middle in a dark red. It was carefully pulled open to reveal itself as empty, the spine missing. </p><p>The openness of the body continued up the neck until the entire side of her head was opened. It wasn’t her skull that was in her head. Her skull was still in place to keep the head and facial features from sinking in on themselves. It was someone else, someone smaller. The skull of another person sat backwards in her own head, teeth hitting where her spine would have been if it was still present in her back. The side of her cheek had also been opened up and the spine still connected to the skull was sitting through her mouth and pouring from her lips. </p><p>The skull had been carefully taken care of. It must have taken days for Will to work with the skull. Beautiful dedication, just as a hunter would have done with any mount on a wall. Other than the Roman Numeral 13 carved into the side of the skull where the parietal and occipital lobe would have met, it was preserved. </p><p>Hannibal had to wonder for a moment though, as the scent of bleach was practically nowhere in the air, yet the skull was delicately white. Bleach would compromise the skull, turn it to dust. Hannibal knew well enough when he had been cleaning something and grew curious as to what the chemical would do. So what had Will done? There was nothing to suggest the harshness of boiling. All of it was gentle, done with love and care. </p><p>There was a hint of borax and something flowery under the barely noticeable slight acrylic acidic scent and bleach. A paraloid resin coated the skull, just enough to make sure that any handling of the skull wouldn’t turn it a nasty yellow color, but not enough to add a varnish or lacquer shine to the bone. </p><p>“Has anyone reported finding the rest of her body?” Zeller asked and he leaned incredibly close to the artwork, blocking Hannibal’s view of it, but the conversation had caught his interest and he listened in silence. “Or whoever the extra skull belonged to?” </p><p><em> You won’t ever know, </em> Hannibal thought, eyes flickering over to Will. </p><p>“How could we possibly know about the skull yet?” Price shot back, a blue pen in hand pointing towards the object in question. “We’re lucky we were left with possible dental records to pull from. Whoever this was definitely knows how to strip all evidence if he wants to.” </p><p><em> Something he’s practiced long before this kill, </em> Hannibal mused, a hand rubbing at his jaw as he continued to regard the statuesque man. </p><p>“I haven’t heard any reports of any other body parts being found. Not within the last few hours at least,” Beverly answered with a small shrug, arms folded over her chest, her red leather jacket crinkling with the movement. “And nothing about two headless corpses. Has that one been dead for a while? It’s stripped clean. That could take-” </p><p>“Hunters mount skulls all the time,” Zeller cut in, waving his hand to dismiss Beverly. “You strip the skull as clean as you can and then boil the shit out of it until everything else melts off of it.” </p><p>
  <em> Did your father teach you that, Will? Did he teach you to hunt as well as fish? Was he his own undoing? </em>
</p><p> “You think he bleached the skull?” Price asked, face twisting into something of dislike at the mention of the way the person had been treated like an animal. “I can never understand what could make a person do something like this.” </p><p><em> A temper tantrum. </em> Hannibal nearly grumbled the answer under his breath but kept it to himself. Almost as if sensing Hannibal’s sharp look, and Hannibal had to assume that Will had in fact sensed it, Will’s eyes darted up to meet Hannibal’s gaze for merely a moment before they returned to their absent and focused gaze on the floor. </p><p>“After all these years I thought that I would finally figure it out,” Price continued on with a deep sigh. </p><p>“That’s why we have Will,” Jack said as he finally pulled himself away from an officer he had been speaking to. “Speaking of Will, is he still over by the fucking door?” Jack stepped around the group of three in search of the empath and Hannibal watched as the profiler shrunk back and away from Jack’s hunting. “Will!” he called as he finally caught sight of him. Will visibly jumped, a trembling hand reaching up to fiddle with his glasses. “Get your ass over here.” </p><p>“Jack,” Beverly whispered in warning, but the man ignored her complaint. </p><p>Will’s eyes stayed on the floor as he pulled his glasses from his nose and began to wipe them on his shirt, hands still trembling. His steps were anything but uncomfortable though. There was something strong in them that Hannibal would be a fool to miss. Something nearly smug as he passed by Hannibal and came to stand in front of the masterpiece lovingly crafted with his own hands. </p><p>He placed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, looking over at Jack as if asking what he was meant to do and Hannibal felt like Jack’s exasperated eye roll was his own. </p><p>“What do you see Will? Who would do this?” Jack pushed impatiently. </p><p>Hannibal watched as Will’s face twisted and Will let out another deep breath. “Whoever did this was upset. He’s trying to send a message.” </p><p>“To who? Art lovers?” Beverly snorted, wearing her warmly crooked smile. “This is a little bit more extreme than you forgot our anniversary.” </p><p>“Maybe to someone who is hesitant and cautious,” Hannibal offered, drawing nearly all eyes towards him, though the only ones he truly cared about were the blue eyes that stayed firmly on their display. </p><p>“How do you suppose that?” Zeller questioned in obvious confusion, nose pinched at the information. </p><p>“The spine was removed. The killer is trying to say the internder of the message is spineless,” Hannibal answered, the emotions swirling in his chest unlike anything he had ever felt before and he wished he could place what they were. Anger was among one of them, but it was a petty type of emotion that he pushed aside. “The mouth is stuffed full and spilling out. There are things that should have been said that weren’t, but are still there. Still present.” </p><p>“You would think that people would just send a card or something,” Price grumbled, scribbling what Hannibal said down into a clipboard he held. “How hard is it to go to a person and just sit down and talk? Why does it have to end in a convoluted mess?” </p><p>There was an interested look thrown over Will’s shoulder at the question, a hand covering his mouth so Hannibal couldn’t read his whole expression. Blue flickered over to Hannibal, but there was no apology in them, just a glittering look that seemed to say, <em> your turn. </em> But Hannibal wasn’t sure in what aspect Will was expecting him to react. </p><p>“And what about the thirteen?” Jack muttered. “It’s unlucky.” </p><p>“Not necessarily,” Price said with a small shrug. “In China the number thirteen is considered lucky. It means assured growth.” </p><p>“But that doesn't make sense,” Beverly grumbled. “Thirteen is also Death in tarot cards. It means suffering and death.” </p><p>“Or rebirth and a fresh start,” Zeller contracted as if that were his life’s mission, his very single goal was to dispute everything that Beverly said. </p><p>“You think he was trying to say, hey let’s restart?” Beverly shot back with a roll of her eyes. “This man is so unstable that he’s arguing with a body. What makes you think he’s going to tell someone they're spineless and we’ve reached a struggling patch, I want a fresh start for us?” </p><p>“I-” </p><p>“Stop,” Jack interrupted. “Will?” </p><p>Will gave a shrug, fingers rubbing at his scraggly beard. “Thirteen is also lucky in Italy. They have a saying, <em> fare tredici </em>. It literally means make thirteen. It’s compared to winning a jackpot. Thirteen is also seen as lucky in the U.S. Thirteen original colonies, thirteen stripes on the flag, thirteen olive leaves and stars on the U.S. seal. Or there is Friday the Thirteenth. That was the day that the followers of the Knights Templar were arrested, tortured and eventually killed.”</p><p>“That’s not right either,” Jack muttered with a wave of his hand and Hannibal wanted to strangle Will for the completely see through performance he was giving and then the rest of the team for not seeing it.</p><p>“Biblically,” Hannibal cut in, causing Will to turn back around, focus held on the body. “The number thirteen referred to Judas who is known for his betrayal of Jesus. This killer feels like whoever they’re reaching out to betrayed them.” Hannibal kept himself from groaning over the way that Will kept his back to the group, something so immature in the actions. But as inane and infantile as Will was acting, Hannibal had to admit to himself that he had messed up that night in an effort to protect himself. To protect himself he pushed the criminologist away even after Will had shared so much of his past with Hannibal. Will felt betrayed and Hannibal was spineless, unable to come to terms with his own fears and shortcomings. “They opened up, trusted someone and it was used against them and the killer is speaking in the only way he can.” </p><p>“The only way he can?” Will asked back, voice barely audible. The group fell so silent that one could hear the way that the paint brushes of the past were pressed into canvases. “What do you mean, Doctor Lecter?” </p><p>“Maybe it’s the only way that he thinks he can be understood,” Hannibal offered out, observing the way that Will shifted on his feet. </p><p>“Did the Ripper’s love confession not go to plan?” Beverly piped up, a smile twisting at her lips as he straightened her stance to something hopeful. “Only two people display their bodies like this. The Ripper and the Butcher, if we’re going to keep labeling the others as Butcher kills.” </p><p>“Are they not the same person?” Zeller asked under his breath. </p><p>“They are not the same person,” Will shot back. “The Ripper takes organs from his prey, the Butcher doesn’t keep anything.” </p><p>“What about the rest of her body?” Price asked, motioning to the woman. “And the body of the skull?” </p><p>“The Butcher doesn’t keep anything that could come back to him. He would have gotten rid of the bodies once he had what he needed from them,” Will answered. “There’s a reason we can’t find anything to stick to him.”</p><p>“Well, what does the Ripper do with the pieces he takes?” Zeller challenged. Normally Hannibal would applaud a contradictory idea or theory, but Zeller was getting on his nerves with the air of wanting to prove everyone wrong and himself right though he had yet to pose a possible answer to any of their questions. “You’ve never had an answer for that, have you, big shot?” </p><p>“Leave him alone,” Beverly hissed, smacking Zeller in the arm before looking over at Will with an apologetic look, though Will didn’t turn around to face his team. “Why does he have to be the one to come up with all of the answers? Why don’t you figure it out?” </p><p>That seemed to catch Will’s attention and he turned around, arms folded over his chest. He shot Beverly a gentle smile that faded as quickly as it arrived. He took several steps towards Zeller who watched Will apprehensively as if Will could hurt him and Hannibal wondered what Will would do to the man. </p><p>“What kinds of organs does he take, Brian?” Will asked softly, causing everyone in the room to step just a bit closer to better hear him. Zeller’s brows furrowed in confusion and he shook his head with a shrug. “Offal.” </p><p>Price’s eyes widened and he turned away, a hand to his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered, the dry heaving muffled behind his hand. </p><p>“Fuck,” Beverly whispered, giving an understanding nod. </p><p>“He’s eating them,” Jack said, though it wasn’t exactly a question. It landed somewhere more between a question and a statement. </p><p>Hannibal sighed, trying to look disturbed, but his eyes were dead set on Will, wondering why the empath had kept this specific detail from the FBI for so long. Was it really just another outlash to get back at Hannibal? At least Hannibal could own his mistakes. At least Hannibal could act like an adult. At least Hannibal had the right of mind to keep his carefully crafted person suit in place when in front of people who could pick him apart. Will was being careless, neglectful, sloppy, amateurish, irresponsible, absolutely thoughtless and simply all because he didn’t like the way that Hannibal had shut down his advancements. </p><p>How utterly pathetic. </p><p>Hannibal would need to take care of him during their next session. His office wasn’t the most ideal place, but it would fit his needs. </p><p>“Will, is this the Butcher or the Ripper?” Jack asked, shoulders limp with exhaustion at the information that had just been fed to them all. </p><p>“It has marks of the Butcher, but he has no set pattern or M.O. or signature. He has no calling card. I don’t know this kind of psychopath.” Will ran a hand through his curls. “I’ve never read about him. I don’t even know if he is a psychopath. He’s not insensitive. He’s not shallow.” There was a sharp breath through his nose and he began to pace, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. </p><p>“He’s petulant,” Hannibal muttered, unable to keep the sentiment to himself. There was something satisfying in a glare from Will, but the empath continued on, unperturbed by the interruption to his thoughts. </p><p>“You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is very hard to catch.” There was a wavering to Will’s tone and Hannibal was impressed by how the man was finally pulling a bit more of Special Agent Will Graham back into his person instead of allowing the Angry and Overly Cocky Baltimore Butcher speak. “There’s no traceable motive. There’ll be no patterns. He may never kill this way again.” Will motioned to the woman before he passed in front of her once more. Why don’t you have Doctor Lecter draw up a psychological profile.” Will’s movements came to a stop and hurt blue eyes met Hannibal’s before the next sentence was uttered on a breath. “You seem very impressed with his opinion.” </p><p>“If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic,” Hannibal said with a deep sigh, folding his hands in front of himself. There was more hidden there than just feeling hurt about some offhand comment that Hannibal had made. They were going to have to dig deeper to figure this out, that was if either one of them still wanted this to work. They still didn’t have a name for what they were, but titles weren’t necessarily important. What was important in any relationship was setting boundaries, and theirs were blurred and confuddled. “You might be able to influence him to become visible.”</p><p>“What?” Zeller asked with a scoff and roll of his eyes. “Scare him out and into the daylight?” </p><p>“Might even get him to hurt himself, if he hasn’t already,” Hannibal replied, seeing the way Will shook his head in dislike. </p><p>“If he were self destructive, he-he-he wouldn’t be so careful,” Will argued back quickly, though his anxieties were fairly present in his stuttering. He was rapidly blinking and his hands were once more shaking. A stress increase then, Hannibal noted. </p><p>“Unless he’s careful about being self destructive.”</p><p>“So his mind has turned against him and there’s no one there to help,” Jack said with a shrug, shoving his hands into his long coat pockets. “So, does this mean that he’s just getting started or is he devolving?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Will answered with a small shrug.</p><p>“And what about the victims?” Jack pushed. “If this is the Butcher, how is he choosing them?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Will replied, hands out to his sides as he shrugged. “Ask him.” </p><p>“I’m asking you,” Jack shot back impatiently and Hannibal had to force himself not to smile at the irony that was so thick in the air he was almost shocked that no one else could feel it. </p><p>Will growled through his next words, more than obviously at the end of his rope. “You’re the head of the Behavioral Science Unit, Jack. Why don’t you come up with your own answers if you don’t like mine?” </p><p>Something in the air snapped, the three lab techs literally taking a step back and away from Jack who had reddened in the face and looked like a volcano about to erupt and Hannibal was curious how often Jack was talked back to. Obviously not enough to help him build any healthy coping mechanisms, but that only made the show that much more enjoyable. </p><p>“I did not hear that!” Jack said sternly, voice loud enough to echo around the gallery. The three lab techs all watched with a tight lipped silence, not daring to interrupt. “Did I?” </p><p>Will opened and closed his mouth several times, glancing around at his coworkers for any type of help and when none came, Will pulled his glasses from his nose with shaking fingers. Hannibal inhaled deeply and paused, the smug smile falling from his lips. There was a new and bitter note to the air. Anxiety. </p><p>This really was Will. He wasn’t playing a part anymore. Jack actually got under his skin, scared him, but Hannibal wasn’t quite sure if it was because of Jack’s demanding or if because Jack was slowly starting to build a profile of him. </p><p>Will tapped his glasses into his open palm and shook his head, eyes up, but most likely focused on Jack’s nose. There was a submissiveness there that Hannibal had never seen from the man before in any of their conversations or meetings. Something resigned. </p><p>“No, you didn’t,” Will finally answered, voice broken. He gave a forced smile before it dropped and his words became a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Will rocked back and forth on his toes and heels for a moment before he nodded, lips held in a fine line. “Excuse me.” He turned away from the group and made his way towards the exit of the gallery where officers were still gathered and the line of yellow tape was blocking the door. </p><p>Beverly’s mouth hung open and she glanced between all of them before racing after the man. “Will!” she called. “Will, wait!” </p><p>“Jack,” Hannibal said, calling the man’s attention to him. “I thought we discussed a much less direct approach.” Jack opened his mouth to speak but fell silent as Hannibal held up a hand to quiet him. “If you would excuse me, I need to attend my patient.” </p><p>Hannibal bowed his head and gave one more careful look over the masterpiece, hiding it away in his memory palace to explore again a little later, before he left the room. He ducked under the yellow tape and glanced around the foyer until he found Will leaned up against a small doorway to another exhibit, arms folded over his chest and head down. In front of him was Beverly and Hannibal stepped close enough to catch their conversation, but made sure he stayed far enough away to not interrupt. </p><p>“I’ve never heard anybody talk to Jack the way that you talked to Jack,” Beverly’s soft tones carried over to Hannibal. </p><p>“I was out of line,” Will dismissed, not looking up. </p><p>“You were out of your mind,” Beverly corrected, arms now folded over her chest as she leaned against the opposite side of the doorway. “My ears rang like the first time I heard my mom use the F-word.” </p><p>Will gave a small, not committal wheezing chuckle. </p><p>“Are you ok?” When there was no answer, Beverly nodded her head in understanding. “I know it’s a stupid question considering none of us could possibly be ok with what we do, but... Are you ok?” </p><p>There was a small pause and Will finally looked up. “Do I seem different?” </p><p>Beverly’s head tipped to the side and she blinked. “You’re a little different, but you’ve always been a little different.” Will scoffed at the words. “Brilliant strategy. That way no one ever knows if something’s up with you.” </p><p>“How would I know if something was up with you?” </p><p>Beverly smiled. “Other than knowing me half your life, Pretty Boy?” The woman laughed and brushed her long dark hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t.” Will sighed and nodded, looking away from Beverly, eyes finding where Hannibal stood, patiently waiting for his chance to speak. “But I would tell you if you asked me.” Will’s attention was pulled back to the woman. “Return the favor?” </p><p>“I-I...” Will licked at his lips and his hands went to his head, fingers tangling desperately into his hair. “I have these migraines that won't go away and I keep having nightmares.” </p><p>“That’s not surprising, considering what we see on a daily basis.” </p><p>“No,” Will shook his head. “I used to work homicide, I teach forensic and offender profiling, I’ve killed someone before Bev. This isn’t the same.” </p><p>“Your dad slipping down the stairs was not your fault.” </p><p>Will shook his head with an unhinged laugh, and Hannibal could sense the pain at the fact that his only friend couldn’t see the truth that was right in front of her. “I wake up outside. The other night the police had to take me home. I was barefoot in the snow, walking down that highway before you reached the turn off for my house. I-I-I woke up on my roof this morning, Bev. I was standing right at the edge and if it weren’t for my dogs barking I think I might have-” </p><p>“Fuck, Will,” Beverly interrupted with a deep breath. “Have you told Doctor Lecter about these?” </p><p>Will snorted and shook his head. “Are you crazy? He would want to get me tested. You know how I am in hospitals. I would shake myself apart from my nosocomephobia.” </p><p>“Maybe you should talk to him about that too,” Beverly said in a teasing voice, but Will didn’t return the jest. “Is there anything else?” </p><p>“I keep losing track of time and I keep seeing things. Things that aren’t there,” Will answered, hands slapping down to his sides. “Victims or killers from crimes we’ve solved sitting at my kitchen table or floating down the river when I’m trying to fish. The Achilles Mangler was in my shower yesterday, just staring at me like it’s my fault he was caught.” </p><p>Beverly laughed. “It is kinda your fault.” </p><p>“If he didn’t want to get caught, he should have hidden himself better. It’s not my fault I can interpret the evidence. Maybe he should have changed the color of his side mirrors on his truck to match the security footage of his supposed alibi.” </p><p>“I still can’t believe you noticed that. We were staring at those pictures for months and you figured it out overnight.” </p><p>“Very little sleep,” Will answered softly. “Leaves a lot of open hours for staring at evidence.” </p><p>“Maybe that’s where the hallucinations are coming from. You need rest Will.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Will nodded, tone sarcastic. “Because sleepwalking is really encouraging me to sleep right now. </p><p>Beverly sighed. “Eating better might help you. Maybe you could try meditating or doing yoga before you sleep? Maybe it will tire you out enough to sleep?” </p><p>“Or I can zip myself up in a sleeping bag before I go to sleep.” There was a laugh from Will. “A poor man’s straight jacket.” </p><p>“I could always find you a real one if you’re really wanting one. It’ll run you a couple hundred bucks though.” </p><p>Will fell silent at that and regarded his friend for a moment. “I don’t want to know, do I?” he finally asked and Beverly grinned with a shake of her head, finally seeming to notice Hannibal standing off to the side. “I didn’t realize your boyfriend was waiting for you,” she said lowly, but nowhere near quiet enough for Hannibal not to hear. A heat bloomed over Will’s cheeks and he glanced towards Hannibal, an argument on his lips, but it failed to fill the air. “I’ll let you two talk. Mention your nightmares and whatnot. He’d be able to offer more help than me.” Beverly leaned over and pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek that had the empath sink into a stuttering mess. “I’m always here for you to talk to, Pretty Boy. Don’t forget about me when you run off with your Prince Charming, alright?” </p><p>Hannibal gave a polite smile and stepped a little closer to the disheveled man. “I am far from a Prince Charming, Beverly, but I thank you for the compliment.” Beverly nodded and patted Will’s arm before leaving the two of them, following after rather well timed yells of her name. Hannibal glanced over Will who huffed a visible sigh, staring at the wall straight ahead of him instead of meeting Hannibal’s attention. “Will-” </p><p>“I am not discussing this right now,” Will interrupted determinedly with a firm nod and Hannibal had to assume that the man was trying to convince himself. “Not here. Not when I’m like this.” </p><p>“Does Jack usually elicit such a large range of emotions from you?” Hannibal asked carefully. </p><p>“I told you I’m not doing this,” Will grumbled. “I’m not in the mood.” </p><p>Hannibal sighed and nodded, glancing over his shoulder and back towards the yellow tape before bringing his attention back to Will. “Not in the mood seems to be an understatement.” </p><p>“I mean it, Hannibal. Damn it.” Will groaned and threw his head back and against the wall with a decent sounding thud. He winced slightly and exhaled sharply, a hand going to his temple. “You wouldn’t happen to have any aspirin on you, would you?” </p><p>“Unfortunately, I don’t,” Hannibal answered, doing his best to let regret seep into his voice, but not even that was enough to pull Will’s eyes to him. They stayed plastered straight ahead, now at the ceiling. “How long have you been having these migraines?” </p><p>“A few months now. I used to get them in high school.” Will gave a shrug. “I thought I had grown out of them, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with. I just want to get home and maybe put up some black out curtains I have somewhere in a-a box. I just need to find them.” </p><p>“Have they gotten worse as of late?” </p><p>Hannibal chewed on his tongue for a moment at the thought that the man still wasn’t fully unpacked and settled into his new house. Maybe that was another reason for his sleeping issues. He was somewhere new that he didn’t recognize. </p><p>“I suppose so, but if I’m not sleeping well then the migraines won’t go away.” </p><p>Will wasn’t wrong. Sleep, though still not fully understood, was a crucial component to living life. The body would slowly start to lose the ability to function and force a shutdown if Will wasn’t careful. </p><p>“And the nightmares and hallucinations?” Hannibal probed carefully. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Will whispered, eyes fluttering shut. He shook his head, it weaving on a weak neck against the wall. </p><p>“Do you feel abandoned, Will?” Hannibal watched Will carefully, seeing the way that Will’s face pinched up in dislike at the question. “You weren’t just trying to insult me in there, were you? You were trying to tell me how you felt. Do you feel abandoned?” </p><p>Will scoffed, but it was weak, tired. “Abandonment requires expectation.” </p><p>Hannibal thought over the sentiment for a moment, deciding it best to dilute the conversation with something a little easier to swallow. “Do you need a ride home? I can take you.” </p><p>“Uh, no.” Will licked his lips, finally glancing over at the subject change. “I drove. And I have some more classes to teach this afternoon.” </p><p>“I will arrange something with Alana Bloom,” Hannibal assured. “You are in obvious need of rest.” </p><p>“You know Alana?” Will questioned curiously. He pushed himself up from the wall and straightened the glasses that had found a way back to his nose. </p><p>“I was her mentor while she was doing her residency at John Hopkins,” Hannibal explained with a small smile, following Will’s lead towards the exit of the gallery. “What were your expectations of Jack Crawford and the FBI?” </p><p>Will stiffened at the question and paused in opening the glass door leading out into a lightly falling snow. The crack in the door let the cold air rush in and it ruffled up Will’s curls in a rather pleasant way, but Will didn’t seem to notice the heat that he was letting escape into the outside world. </p><p>“Jack hasn’t abandoned me,” he muttered before he found his movements and pushed the door open, holding it open for Hannibal to exit. Hannibal nodded his thanks and reached into the pockets of his coat to retrieve his gloves, but stopped at the way that Will huddled up against the cold, arms gripping at himself in an attempt to keep warm from the lack of  good coat. </p><p>“Not in any discernible way.” Hannibal looked over Will once more before he sighed. “I insist you invest in winter clothing,” Hannibal found himself scolding as he held out his gloves to the man. Will was silent and stared at the offering, looking at a complete loss for what he was meant to exactly do. “I’m not going to let your fingers freeze for my own enjoyment, Will. Take the gloves.” Will’s hand slowly reached out and took the fabric from Hannibal before he pulled on each one respectfully, wiggling his fingers in their new confinements. The leather did not match in the slightest with the cheap fabrics that Will was determined to wear, but Hannibal couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered by the concept. Instead he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and held it out as well. Will attempted to argue, but Hannibal quickly silenced him. “You say he hasn’t abandoned you, but at the same time you find yourself wandering around Wolf Trap in the middle of the night.” </p><p>“Well...” Will took the fabric from Hannibal's outstretched grip with a chuckle and there was something prideful in Hannibal’s chest at the clashing plaids and colors that now adorned Will. “This should be interesting.” There was a deep breath from Will before Will finally met Hannibal’s gaze, already looking more comfortable in the swirling snow than he had been. “Please, Doctor, proceed.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded towards the parking lot, shoving his now frozen digits into the pockets of his coat in a hope of warming them up. He stepped from the curb and Will followed. “Jack gave you his word he would protect your headspace, yet he leaves you to your mental devices.” </p><p>Will’s steps halted in the snow and Hannibal had to turn back to see the slightly confused look over Will’s face. He pulled at the fogging spectacles on his nose and shoved them into his pocket as he spoke, breath floating away deadly among the snowflakes. “Are you trying to alienate me from Jack Crawford?” </p><p>Hannibal thought over the question carefully, dissecting it fully. He hadn’t intended that to be the purpose, but he supposed it was true. If he could break Will away from his connections it would be that much easier to do away with him if the moment arose. But it was also crucial to keep Will in a good enough standing with the FBI that he could continue to work. Hannibal needed Will to be his gateway between himself and the manhunters. He had to make sure he had an ace up his sleeve, a get out of jail free card. Will was that chip. </p><p>“No,” he lied. He could see the disbelief playing out over Will’s face, but he wasn’t about to let Will question it. “Come to my house.” Hannibal started off across the parking lot once more and he could feel the stunned silence behind him before hurried footsteps caught up to him, causing a smile to cover his lips at how easy it was to string the man along. “My home is closer,” Hannibal explained before Will had the chance to speak. “You can eat something that’s actually good for you and use my guest room to sleep.” </p><p>“I’m going to wake up in your pantry munching on onions or something,” Will muttered out, but there wasn’t much fight there. </p><p>“I had to cancel my appointments already today to come see your display, Will,” Hannibal pointed out, stealing a glance over at the man who was once more hunched up against the cold. “I will be present to make sure you will not end up assaulting my pantry.” </p><p>“Just like that?” Will demanded desperately. “You call me petulant and then are offering to watch over me while I take a nap?” </p><p>“I can be professional about your health, Will,” Hannibal chastised, pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock his car. “We are more than dinner and diatribes. That, however, does not excuse your behavior and we will discuss it during your session. For the moment, though, you need to be taken care of.” </p><p>“Your house?” Will asked softly, a gloved hand rubbing at his elbow. </p><p>“You remember where it is, don’t you?” Hannibal shot back, doing his best to keep the situation as light as he possibly could. “Or do you need me to drive so you don’t fall asleep at the wheel."</p><p>"I-I'm fine." </p><p>"I will give Alana a call," Hannibal assured with a smile as he climbed into his car. He watched the man stand in the snow for a moment before he gave a huff of air that filled the cold sky and headed toward a rather sad looking Volvo. Hannibal pulled from the parking lot and found Alana's number in his phone. A number he hadn't actually called in quite some time. He dialed it and placed the phone to his ear, making sure his windshield wipers were on. </p><p>"Hello, Alana Bloom," her sweetly pleasant voice said across the line. She must have been walking because Hannibal was sure he could hear her heels clicking against the floor and the chatter of people in the background. </p><p>"Hello Alana," Hannibal said with a small grin. "How have you been?" </p><p>"Hannibal?" There was a pause in her steps and a small laugh over the line. "It's been a while. Thought that maybe you'd forgotten about me." </p><p>"How could I forget the brightest student at John Hopkins?" </p><p>As much as he didn't want to consider this flirting, and despite Alana being nowhere near his type, he had found that the best way to deal with the woman was to compliment her. She responded better to praise than threats. Sometimes the compliments had to border the line of friend and something more just to make sure that Hannibal still had a firm grasp over her. She was as independent as Will was and held firm in her own beliefs. She was unshakable. </p><p>Her laugh was light. "You're only buttering me up because you want something, Hannibal." </p><p>"I am calling to check up on an old friend and you immediately expect me to have ulterior motives?" Hannibal chuckled and shook his head as he pulled into the turn off down his street. It hadn't truly occurred to him how close the art gallery had been and that was another point he was going to have to discuss with the man in the Volvo behind him. </p><p>"When do you not, Hannibal?" Alana challenged in teasing, the clicking of her shoes picking up once more.  "What can I do for you?" </p><p>"I have been asked to step in for one of the agents under Jack's care," Hannibal explained as he pulled into his driveway and parked his car.</p><p>"You're Will's therapist," Alana stated, not a question in the slightest. "I had heard rumors, but I'm glad I can put those to rest." </p><p>"Yes," Hannibal agreed, turning his car off and glancing through the rearview mirror and to where Will was climbing from his car, body hunched against the cold. "He has had a rather difficult morning and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind-"</p><p>"Covering his classes the rest of the day?" Alana asked, finishing off Hannibal's sentence.</p><p>"If that is too troublesome, I'm sure I could locate-" </p><p>"I don't mind covering if you wouldn't mind providing me with a beer and a lovely conversation," Alana teased, though Hannibal didn't miss the truth in her words. </p><p>"Absolutely," Hannibal supplied, glancing out the car window at the man waiting for him in the snow. "I'm free this Friday." </p><p>"It's a date."</p><p>Hannibal smiled, feeling an awkwardness in his limbs that he wasn't sure he understood completely. Something uncomfortable that made him nearly not want to leave his car so that the man outside wouldn't be able to tell what the conversation had been about. </p><p>He bid his goodbyes and climbed from the car and ushered Will to follow him towards his front door. </p><p>"I apologize for keeping you waiting," Hannibal muttered as he unlocked his front door. He kicked off the snow on his shoes and stepped in, glancing back at Will who was looking over the front doorway carefully. "What's the matter?" </p><p>"You don't have a security system," Will pointed out, brows furrowed and voice low. He took another step back on the porch and glanced around once more. </p><p>"You don't have one either Will," Hannibal pointed out, doing his best to ignore the way the heat inside his home was slowly leaking into the outside world. </p><p>"I live in the middle of the woods. I don't need one," Will muttered, the concern a little overwhelming on his features. Hannibal wished he understood a little more why it mattered so much. "I also have a dog alarm." A slight smile covered Will's lips before it dropped once more.</p><p>"Won't you come in?" Hannibal prompted with a sigh. He didn't have to worry about his heating bill, but he would much rather not heat the outside world as well as his own home. </p><p>"Just because you're the lion in the corner of the room ready to pounce, doesn't mean that you're safe," Will explained, eyes once more glinting over the front door. "You live in Charm City, but the crime rate is higher than the national average and I don't think I need to tell you that we are doing nothing but contributing to said numbers." </p><p>"I am under the sneaking suspicion that your work might cancel out," Hannibal jested, reaching out a hand to take up Will's arm. Will didn't fight him as Hannibal pulled the man into the house before closing and locking the door. Hannibal closed his eyes with a sigh, shoulders falling forward, trying to recenter himself and paused at the plucking of strings. Hannibal turned towards his study where the light sounds were coming from, something dreamlike from the familiar tune. Clair de Lune.</p><p>Hannibal stopped in the doorway to his study and leaned against the frame, arms folded over his chest as he listened to Will's unsteady playing. Will lacked the confidence, but it absolutely did not distract from the beauty of the piece until a wrong note was played and then the phrase restarted only for the same note to be missed again. </p><p>“G flat,” Hannibal supplied softly, drawing Will’s attention over his shoulder in a sheepish blushing mess. How endearing. Will turned back to the harpsichord, gloves sat beside him on the bench. </p><p>“I always miss that one,” Will muttered softly with a small chuckle. He reached up and pulled the scarf from around his neck to place it beside the gloves on the bench. “I told you I wasn’t very good.” </p><p>“Has your piano been tuned?” Hannibal questioned, stepping a little further into the study. He watched the curls around Will’s head bounce as he nodded, hands once more reaching out towards the harpsichord to start the song again. “To your satisfaction?” </p><p>“I told you not to waste your money on me,” Will reprimanded, though there was little to no bite in the words. “I don’t play enough for it to have been worth the trouble.” </p><p>“You’re worth the trouble, dear boy.” Hannibal bit his bottom lip until it was painful as the words left him before he could stop them and the melody on the harpsichord died immediately. </p><p>“Hannibal, I-” </p><p>“Let’s get you some lunch,” Hannibal quickly interrupted, turning away from the room and swiftly leaving it as if he could somehow leave the emotions behind him and trapped away in that room. “I doubt you’ve eaten breakfast,” Hannibal continued on when footsteps hurried after him. Hannibal ignored them and pushed down his hall until he entered his kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door did nothing to save him from the way the footsteps tripped into the kitchen and there was a heavy breathing from the empath. “I have some leftovers from last night.” Hannibal reached out for the tupperware that held <em> canard à l'orange </em>, but stopped when a hand rested over his, pushing the fridge door shut. </p><p>Before Hannibal had a chance to react, he was turned and his back was shoved up against the fridge door, causing the contents to rattle inside. A smaller frame was pressed to his and a mouth was attacking his jaw, kissing along it before teeth latched onto the skin just below his ear. Hannibal gasped at the sharpness of the bite, eyes sliding closed at the livid and angry mark that was certainly going to be left. </p><p>“We’re finishing that conversation,” Will stated firmly, breath hot against Hannibal’s skin. “Because I can’t stand being mad at and apart from you.” Before Hannibal could even begin to form a response, the fabric of his tie was snatched up and he was yanked down and to Will’s height, nose nuzzling nose, breathing one another’s breath. “I just so happen to be significant enough for that sentiment to be applied to me?” </p><p>The word was out of Hannibal’s mouth before he could stop it, something so painfully honest and it tore a hole in his chest, a hole so large and deep that Hannibal wasn’t sure how he could possibly repair it with anything less than a curly haired killer. </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>Will tugged on the tie a little harder, wrapping the fabric around his fist and effectively wrinkling it, but Hannibal held his tongue. He couldn’t possibly ruin this. This morning had already been so raw and brutal, Hannibal wasn’t certain that they could withstand much more of that at the moment. </p><p>Hannibal leaned into the tug, a set of lips skimming against his, but not making contact. Blue eyes were bright and certain in their stare as they made direct contact with Hannibal’s. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Why?” Hannibal repeated absently, mind stuttering to an abrupt stop. Hannibal could count on one hand the amount of times that his mind had gone fuzzy and two of the three had been around this boy, this contradiction in a body. </p><p>“Why me?” </p><p>“You’re like me,” Hannibal replied, the truth once more being put in the small space between them. Nothing else between them had been that truthful and Hannibal wasn’t sure if anything else would ever be as truthful as that sentence. Those three words held such an obscene amount of weight to them that it made Hannibal dizzy. </p><p>Maybe he could still save this. Maybe he could still stop this. Maybe he could shove Will away with harsh words. If those just so happened to fail, his knife block was in reach. All he had to do was criticize Will’s earlier work and Hannibal would be home free. Will would be out of his hair forever, but Hannibal knew deep down that Will would never leave his head. </p><p>Will had chained himself to the floor of the foyer of the Norman Chapel in Palermo. He would forever be tangled in the bones of memento mori in Hannibal’s mind palace and Hannibal wasn’t sure he had the heart to uproot the man from his collagen and calcium phosphate cage. </p><p>“I’m sorry I called you spineless,” Will muttered, lips tantalizing in their brushing over Hannibal’s, though not nearly close enough. Hannibal would lie to himself and call it an experiment, but when he leaned over to close the space, Will pulled back just enough that the same amount of space stayed between them and the stiffness in Hannibal’s neck from the awkward angle only worsened. “I’ve never let anyone in this close before, Hannibal. Being shut down like that scared me. Closing off is how I protect myself. You were right, you know.” Hannibal’s heart stuttered as Will’s hot tongue swiped out over Hannibal’s bottom lip, slow and calculating as if Will were trying to categorize Hannibal’s taste. “It was the only way I could think of communicating with you without having to see you face to face, but it backfired a little bit. I didn’t expect you to be called in.” </p><p>“I was called in for you,” Hannibal breathed out, words airy and weak, causing Will to smirk lightly. Hannibal cleared his throat, his previous conviction all but gone, the knife block no longer holding any such appeal. “Not for your artwork.” </p><p>“Artwork,” Will hummed softly, pushing himself up onto his toes to relieve Hannibal of his strained arch, though Will’s grip stayed firm on Hannibal’s tie. “That’s what you think of them?” </p><p>“I’ve only had the pleasure of seeing the four, but each were magnificent,” Hannibal assured, though he couldn’t name precisely why he was. The two halves of his mind were fighting a brutal battle back and forth and the quieter side was winning for once, putting Hannibal on edge, though not far enough that he was searching for more ways to dispose of Will. Quite the opposite. He was trying to locate places to escape to, fight or flight leaning a little more towards the latter. It was a new feeling in his veins that he detested greatly. “Will you show me the others, Will?” </p><p>“In time, I suspect,” Will answered, the closeness now forcing Hannibal’s back once more against the fridge, the items inside once more rattling, though it seemed that Will didn’t notice or more likely didn’t care. “Don’t push your luck, Hannibal. I don’t trust easily, especially after what you did. You’ll have to earn it back.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes with a single nod, the words sounding oddly right. Hannibal had to work hard to restore their bridge of trust. Their connection was still present, Will’s unfaltering closeness enough of a testimony to that. This was something deeper. Something that Will had been building carefully in Hannibal’s direction and Hannibal had been more than happy to strike the match and watch it go up in flames. </p><p>Will gave a bright chuckle and released Hannibal’s tie, stepping fully away from Hannibal and straightening his American Eagle hand me down jacket before blue eyes dragged over Hannibal’s off centeredness. There was amusement in that gaze and the overwhelming need to swipe the smugness from the profiler’s face was more than enough to snap Hannibal back to himself. </p><p>“I’m not hungry at the moment, Hannibal,” Will stated, turning away from Hannibal and addressing a conversation that Hannibal had all but so readily forgotten minutes prior. “I’m rather tired. Which bedroom am I-” </p><p>Hannibal’s hand reached out and snatched up the collar of Will’s coat, dragging the man back and around in one solid movement. Hannibal tugged Will against him, arm secured around Will’s slender waist that was hidden by the bulkiness of the ill fitting jacket. </p><p>Hannibal’s other hand was lost swiftly into Will’s soft curls and his grip kept the empath tightly in place as Hannibal kissed him. This kiss wasn’t like the others. Their first had been delicate, passing and hopeful. Their second had been heavy and grateful. Their third had been teasing, but this one... This one only awakened a harshness in both of them, sending jackets to the kitchen floor and fingers tugging at a tie and buttons on a flannel. </p><p>“Which bedroom?” Will gasped out between open mouthed, hot and desperate kisses. </p><p>“Mine.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Know this: I am addicted to you. I have tasted your mind, and I cannot forget its flavor.”<br/>― Unknown</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                 </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal glanced at the clock on his mantle and sighed, lowering his pen to his desk. Eleven in the morning and Hannibal was already dreading his day. His work was something he truly adored and found joy in, with the occasional brain to pick like Will’s present and making the occupation that much more enjoyable. One patient in particular had a rather special gift of making Hannibal regret having ever become a psychiatrist. A patient that had so unceremoniously destroyed his day yesterday before it had even begun, had sent Will into his already planned nap rather than any further into Hannibal’s bed. </p><p>Hannibal rose to his feet and made sure that his suit was tidy and pristine before he made his way to his office door and pulled it open to find a rather large man who, despite his messy hair and beard, dressed decently and attempted to wear something better than cheap  cologne with a ship on the bottle. But even decent cologne did nothing to better the person underneath it. </p><p>“Good morning,” Hannibal said, hand securely on the door and the door frame, doing his best to ignore the way the man’s dark brown eyes lit up when they landed on Hannibal. ”Please come in.” </p><p>The man smiled and stood and Hannibal made room for the man to step into his office. Hannibal closed the door behind him and did his best to restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he took his normal seat across from Franklyn Froideveaux, the man he was considered <em>Cheese Folk</em> with. </p><p>Hannibal crossed his legs and rested back in his chair, hands folded on his lap as he regarded the man who sat on the very edge of his chair as if he were ready to run should the moment arise, though he wouldn’t get very far if he tried. </p><p>There was an annoying silence between them while Franklyn bounced his hands in his lap, trying to come up with something to say to excuse himself from the last two blunders he had been a part of. One of which was the desperate phone call which was anything but desperate and the other was how the man had followed Hannibal through a shop while Hannibal was buying groceries for dinner that evening. He had interrupted a rather lovely chat Hannibal was having with Mrs. Komeda, a dear dinner party acquaintance and a rather renowned author.</p><p>Franklyn gave a deep sigh and finally looked away from Hannibal, indicating that the man was not going to start today’s hour and that Hannibal was going to have to pull the heavy legwork. </p><p>“Would you like to discuss our chance encounter?” Hannibal offered, though an hour of knee bouncing and the odd eye contact sounded far more appealing than actually trying to address any sort of neurosis that Franklyn had. </p><p>There was an awkward chuckle and smile from the man across from Hannibal. “It wasn’t altogether by chance,” he admitted, not at all to Hannibal’s surprise. “Uh, I kind of...” There was another breath. “Kind of thought you’d be there.” Franklyn’s hands quickly jumped up defensively in front of him and he spoke far quicker. “Uh, which isn’t why I was there. I-I...I was there because I was picking up some groceries.” Hannibal stayed silent, the argument that Franklyn had left without buying a single thing, everything far too over his price range to even be considered purchased, was pushed back down his throat. The restraint was something that he wished he had when Will was in the room. “Uh, it just occurred to me that... you might be there too.” </p><p>“I was,” Hannibal said, keeping the sarcasm far from his tone as he gave Franklyn a kind and miniscule smile. </p><p>“I tried to get your attention.” Franklyn chuckled, pointing to Hannibal in the small space between them, Franklyn having scooted their chairs closer together just as he did every session. </p><p>“I was aware of that.” Hannibal gave a nod. </p><p>Franklyn’s head tipped to the side with a grin and he pointed at Hannibal with a large sausage finger. “I knew that you were aware, even though you were pretending that you weren’t.”</p><p>Hannibal couldn’t fight the tired sigh that left him. “It would be unethical to approach a patient or acknowledge in any way our relationship outside this room until that patient gives consent.” It was honestly the nicest and most professional way that Hannibal could think of to inform the man that he needed to back off, but Franklyn had always been rather thick and the underlying tone to Hannibal’s words went unnoticed. </p><p>Franklyn sighed. “But I really don’t know who you are outside this room.” </p><p>Hannibal reached out to the side table to grab the scalpel that he had left out on one of his notebooks and shove it between the pages to help stem any want to throw the sharp object at the man before him.  “I’m your psychiatrist.” </p><p>“I want you to be my friend.” </p><p>Hannibal winced lightly at the words and returned his hands to where they had been folded on his lap. “Of course you do,” he acknowledged as kindly as he could. “I have intimate knowledge of you.”</p><p>“And we like the same things,” Franklyn said with a nod that was anything but reassuring to Hannibal. “I think that we would make good friends. It makes me sad that I have to pay to see you.” </p><p>Hannibal was silent for a moment, brows furrowed as his eyes carefully flickered over Franklyn who was still positioned at the edge of his seat. An unpleasant shiver took Hannibal’s spine as the words settled in and he wished that the same sentiment had come from Will. It would have meant something so completely different and nowhere near as unsettling as how Franklyn had insisted upon it meaning. </p><p>The silence continued on until Franklyn gave a defeated and exasperated sigh, finally sitting back in his chair. Hannibal’s fingers tapped against one another for a moment before he let out a light breath and spoke. </p><p>“I am a source of stability and clarity, Franklyn. I am not your friend.” </p><p>Hannibal didn’t know how much more straightforward he could be with the man, but Franklyn was obviously thicker than Hannibal had originally thought. </p><p>“I’m a great friend,” he argued. And as quickly as he had sat back, he was once more at the edge of his chair, far closer than Hannibal appreciated. “I was listening to, uh, Michael Jackson last night, and I burst into tears, and...” There was a large inhale. “My eyes are burning right now just thinking about it, but...” </p><p>Hannibal glanced down to his lap momentarily, debating whether or not he would have the time to dispose of Franklyn. Sure there were other methods, like a referral, but that would be nowhere near as satisfying as shoving the blade of that scalpel into the artery in Franklyn’s neck. Or maybe his femoral artery. There was less clothing and fat there to try to get the small blade through. </p><p>“You know, what I think is the saddest thing about him dying is that I will never get to meet him, and I feel, like, if I was his friend that I-I would have been able to...” Franklyn paused in thought for a moment. “Help save him from himself.” </p><p>Hannibal opened his mouth, trying to come up with the right words to say before he closed his mouth once more. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say, Hannibal had plenty to say, but telling Franklyn something along the lines of get out of my office before I stab you and you bleed out all over my floor was not the right set of words. </p><p>“In this Michael Jackson fantasy, how is your friendship returned?” </p><p>He didn’t want to know. Not really in any sense of the word. What he wanted to be doing now was focusing on something to make for dinner. Will had insisted on meeting at their normal time in the office instead of at Hannibal’s home and had offered to bring dinner, but Hannibal was nearly certain the man was going to bring something greasy and in a paper bag and Hannibal wanted to avoid that if at all possible. Maybe Franklyn stew? Or a nice Franklyn risotto? </p><p>“I just get to touch greatness,” Franklyn answered with a shrug. </p><p>There was a frantic knocking at the office door and Hannibal glanced over at it, grateful for the small break in the conversation, though he did not rise from his chair. He turned back to Franklyn with a light smile. “Please continue.” The knocking came again, this time just as hurried and Franklyn gave a frown as Hannibal rose to his feet. “Just a moment, Franklyn.” </p><p>Hannibal straightened himself out and went for the door, but before he could get to it, it burst open and a ragged looking Will Graham stepped in, letting some bags drop on the ground. He pulled off his coat, shaking snow from it, snow clinging to his curls as well in a delightful sort of way. </p><p>“I kissed Alana Bloom,” he announced, voice monotone. He tossed the coat aside on the floor and stepped past Hannibal, who blinked, unsure of what exactly had just happened. </p><p>“Well, come in,” he muttered absently, closing his office door and turning back to the room. </p><p>“You have a patient?” Will stopped, looking over Franklyn before turning back to Hannibal. “I didn’t realize. I would have-” </p><p>“It’s obviously urgent enough that you drove an hour in the snow to speak to me about it,” Hannibal excused the rudeness, catching Franklyn’s open mouth and wide eyes as the man looked between the two of them. “Franklyn would you mind if we cut your appointment a little short today? Same time next week?” </p><p>“But I-” </p><p>“I can go,” Will insisted once more, pointing towards the door, cutting into Franklyn’s argument. </p><p>“Nonsense,” Hannibal assured softly. “You’re obviously out of sorts.” Hannibal turned to Franklyn and gave the man a smile that he hoped didn’t betray how appreciative he felt for Will’s interruption, despite the fact that Will’s words were finally starting to settle in. “I will make sure you aren’t charged for the full hour.” </p><p>Franklyn, though the sentences were incoherent, made his way to his feet and shuffled towards the door, looking over Will who stood in his normal frazzled state. Once Franklyn was out of the office and the door was shut and locked, Hannibal turned back around to be met with that brilliant smile. Will walked slowly towards him, arms folded over his chest. </p><p>“You’re welcome,” he said with a hint of a laugh. “I really tried to wait, but when he mentioned Michael Jackson I was certain that you were about to find your scalpel.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply, but didn’t dare confirm or deny the observation. "That was incredibly rude what you made me do." </p><p>"I didn't make you do anything," Will corrected with a rather harsh emphasis on <em>I</em>. "You could have sent me away, though I would like to think that I saved that poor patient from a rather gruesome end. He doesn't deserve it, Doctor Lecter, even if he did interrupt us the other day." Will shrugged easily, biting his tongue between his teeth for a moment. "Who was more rude between the three of us?" </p><p>“What was this about Alana Bloom?” Hannibal questioned instead, something sticky and hot bubbling up in his chest at the idea of Will having been with the woman in any capacity other than something work related. </p><p>Will’s grin somehow broadened. “Is someone jealous?” he teased, coming to stand in front of Hannibal. He let his arms drop to his sides and he sighed when Hannibal didn’t answer. “I didn’t kiss her. I was just trying to make it look real. Anything to help you escape.” </p><p>Hannibal sighed and let himself relax, though the goo in his chest left a viscous after gunk clinging to his ribs. “Then I suppose I do owe you a thank you,” Hannibal muttered, causing Will to hum with a nod. Hannibal chuckled and a smile came to his face. “Thank you, Will.” </p><p>“You’re very welcome, Doctor Lecter,” Will replied, stepping close enough to place a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek, some sort of hesitation in the movement. “I’m sorry. I had to come early. I can’t make the appointment tonight.” </p><p>“Oh,” Hannibal said, heart plummeting like a rock in his chest and into his stomach that churned uncomfortably. “Might I inquire as to why?” </p><p>“I have a case that I need to take care of out of state. Something that can’t wait,” Will explained, a frown coming to his lips, that brilliance diminished. “I-I actually can’t stay long. Bev is waiting out in the car. We have a flight to catch. I’m glad I was able to see you before I had to leave though.”</p><p>“You could have called or texted,” Hannibal reminded, though he was once more grateful for the knight in shining armor that had come to rescue him from a monster who talked far too much. </p><p>“But I promised dinner.” Will gave a shrug, a small semblance of his smile returning as he stepped past Hannibal and went for the bags that he had left by the door. “Bev helped me make them. She has this cousin who has a friend who has a niece who did something in Vilnius.” Will turned back, a hand rubbing at the back of his head and fluffing up his curls. Hannibal’s head tipped to the side and he glanced down at the two bags in Will’s hand. “Anyways, Bev insists that these are the best things she’s ever eaten and since you’re from Lithuania we had to make them for you.”  </p><p>Will held out the bags and Hannibal slowly reached out for the items, unsure what to make about the gesture or if he even wanted to look inside to see what was waiting for him. It had been years since he had eaten anything from home. He had turned most of his cooking towards French and Italian cuisine, having grown up in both places and having found that each had their own beautiful voice that needed to be heard. </p><p>“I’m not sure how to pronounce them. Something like <em>Kibi- Kibin</em>-” </p><p>“<em>Kibinas</em>?” Hannibal asked and that smile lit up Will’s face once more. </p><p>“Yeah. That sounds right.” Will pulled his glasses from his nose and shoved them and his hands into his jean pockets. “And then she was insistent about these cheese donuts or something,” Will continued on with a confused furrowing of his eyebrows and a shrug. “We made those too. Had to make farmer’s cheese to make them.” Will shrugged. “I mean, they taste good but I have no idea what they’re called.” </p><p>“<em>Varškės Spurgos</em>,” Hannibal supplied, eyeing Will carefully. </p><p>Will nodded with a small laugh. “It sounds so much better when you say it than trying to listen to Bev butcher the names.” </p><p>“How long have you been working on these?” Hannibal motioned to the items before he set them down on one of the chairs in the room. </p><p>“All morning,” Will explained in a quiet tone, hand once more reaching up to run through his curls. He laughed. “Bev is much better in the kitchen than I am.” Hannibal’s hand went to his chest with an ache in it, something pulling at that hole that had left his chest hollow. He stepped closer to Will who didn’t look like he was paying much attention. “Being around you two makes me realize how inept I am and I-” </p><p>Hannibal reached out a hand and took the nape of Will’s neck, pulling Will close enough to kiss. Will jumped at the action, but relaxed into it, allowing himself to be pulled closer and Hannibal wished there was a way to claw open his chest to allow Will room to occupy it, making a home in that perfectly shaped hole in his ribs. The idea of Will being able to hold his heart in hand and control when it beat made Hannibal pull Will closer. </p><p>Hannibal released Will and sighed at the small laugh Will let out between them, hands resting against Hannibal’s chest. “I didn’t think that food would mean that much to you,” he whispered, leaning into the hand at the nape of his neck, Hannibal’s fingers now tangling in the curls there. </p><p>“I haven’t had something like this since I was a child,” Hannibal muttered. “My mother used to make them with my sister and me.” </p><p>“Sister?” Will asked with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Hannibal frowned and Will hushed the man softly before pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s lips. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” </p><p>“You’re being so courteous,” Hannibal muttered, making sure Will’s body stayed closely pressed to his. “What happened to <em>quid pro quo</em>?” </p><p>“Just as I asked you to not pry into my life with my coworker as your fountain of information, I will not dig into sensitive topics of your life without your consent.” Will shrugged. “Though the despair that ran through your eyes at the mention of your sister was delicious.” </p><p>“Pestilent boy,” Hannibal scolded, causing Will to only grin once more, teeth showing. “And what about our rather interesting topic of conversation tonight? I was rather looking forward to discussing it with you.” </p><p>“I was not,” Will muttered, resting his head against Hannibal’s. “Can’t we ignore-” </p><p>“Not when your actions could put both of us in danger, Will,” Hannibal cut in with a shake of his head against Will’s. “We will be discussing your petulant behavior when you return.” </p><p>“Will you miss me while I’m gone?” Will teased, fingers slipping under the lapels of Hannibal’s suit coat to straighten them despite the fact that they were perfectly fine. Hannibal bit his bottom lip, swallowing the answer before it had time to leave him like his words had the night before. Will sighed. “Is this something that I need to get used to, because you not answering me when I ask those types of questions is difficult for me.” </p><p>“Cuts a little too deeply?” Hannibal asked carefully, making sure those were the only words he was giving himself permission to escape. Will hummed in answer, a finger reaching up to caress at the bruise that he had left behind under Hannibal’s ear. Hannibal winced at the way Will’s fingers slowly dug into the mark and Will gave a satisfied smile. “Until I am more comfortable with what’s between us, I will continue to avoid questions of the sort, Will.” </p><p>"So you will miss me," Will whispered with a grin. His index finger hooked Hannibal's chin and pulled him closer. "I'll miss you too, if you were curious." </p><p>Will pressed his lips to Hannibal's jaw, kissing at it softly. Hannibal's eyes flickered shut and he almost missed the way the door to his office opened and closed quietly. Will's lips were soft as they met his and he let Will kiss him, ignoring the footsteps that entered his office, waiting for Will to notice them. </p><p>The smile was undeniable in its warmth and snark, heeled boots clicking on the floor. A clearing of a throat made Will jump away from Hannibal, all of his confidence shot as his breathing stuttered. </p><p>Hannibal gave a small chuckle and pulled from Will's grasp, turning to a smug looking Beverly who had her arms folded over her chest and hip jutted out to the side, tongue held between her teeth in that brilliant smile. </p><p>"Not together, my ass," she muttered with a light laugh. "We're gonna miss our flight, Pretty Boy. Leave the food and you can dream about him on the plane." </p><p>"I-I-I-" Will stuttered and Hannibal chuckled. </p><p>Hannibal leaned over and pressed a kiss to Will's head. "Let me know when you land, Will." </p><p>"Alright," Will whispered with a small nod. A fist went to his lips and he cleared his throat, turning to Beverly. "Let's go." </p><p>"We are discussing this in the car," Beverly announced in a voice that told Hannibal that Will didn't have a choice. "I'll make sure he's safe, Dr. Hotass. Promise." </p><p>"That's quite a comfort Beverly," Hannibal assured with a smile. Will shot him an annoyed look, but Hannibal paid it no mind. "Thank you for the food." </p><p>"You're welcome." Beverly stepped closer and snatched up Will's arm, pulling him away. "Enjoy them."</p><p>"I'm sure I will." </p><p>Hannibal watched as Will was pulled to the office door, snatching up his jacket and out of the door without another word, though he could hear Beverly teasing him until their voices disappeared. </p><p>Hannibal picked up the two bags and moved over to his desk, sitting down and opening both bags to pull tupperwear from them. He opened them and found some silverware that had been added to the bags as well. </p><p>The scent that hit him paused his hand and he lowered the fork to the desktop with a small sigh, the rush of memories bittersweet as they raced to the forefront of his mind. </p><p>Simpler times. Times when his mother would cook for him, show him handed down family recipes that he still remembered but didn't dare recreate. </p><p>The last time he had had <em>Kibinas </em>his mother had been pregnant with Mischa. Rummaging around their kitchen with a belly close to popping. </p><p>She had become sickly after Mischa's birth and didn't leave bed often. Hannibal would cook for her, but nothing was ever as good as what she made. Even now, he knew he could never amount to her cooking. The <em>Varškės Spurgos </em>had been turned to something for special occasions, like birthdays or holidays when his mother made a special effort to get out of bed. After his mother’s passing, Lady Murasaki had taught him more about cooking as a way to connect when he was speechless.</p><p>With a deep breath, Hannibal cut into one and took a bite. He chewed it slowly, the familiar flavors over his tongue nearly bringing tears to his eyes, but there was a definite lump to his throat and a sting to his chest. </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal paced his study, sipping dully on a glass of wine. It was a vintage that he normally enjoyed, but without someone to share it with he found himself not appreciating it as much as he often did. </p><p>He took a seat at his harpsichord, wine set aside, and let his fingers touch the keys. Keys that had last been touched by an empath who left the scent of bad aftershave hanging in the room. </p><p>With easy and light movements, Clair de Lune filled the study. </p><p>He did miss Will. He bit his lip at the thought, a twinge of pain in his chest and Hannibal found himself angry with the universe for introducing Will to only take the boy away from him before he had the chance to fully explore him. </p><p>It was such a teenager’s reaction to miss someone like Hannibal did to the point of distraction. All he could think of were Will’s caresses, the timbre of his voice and the solid strength of his soul. </p><p>Those eyes would be his undoing. They were astonishingly innocent, bemused and vivid, kindly eager, charmingly timid, startlingly intense, childishly vacant and somehow heavenly deep in their blue hues mixed with delicate sugar works of caramel coloring. </p><p>Wil had only been gone for a matter of hours, but Hannibal had found himself restless and waiting for his phone to give any indication that the man had messaged him, and paid him any sort of attention that he desperately wanted. </p><p>Hannibal hadn’t realized that being seen would feel like this. He hadn’t realized how badly he had wanted to be seen until Will’s attention was on him, drowning him. Attention unwanted by anyone else. Attention that Hannibal found incredibly overwhelming any time the boy was near, but somehow displeasing in its lack when Will was away. </p><p>Reading couldn’t preoccupy him. Drawing held no real interest. The only thing that did was picking apart Will’s mind. Will was a complex creature and that way that he had mentioned his mind deteriorating had only spurred Hannibal into a further spiral. </p><p>He could lie to himself and say that it was a medical interest that he had with the boy. And who was to say it wasn’t the truth? It had started out that way. Simply a medical interest. A professional curiosity that now bordered a little more on obsessive despite how forceful Hannibal had been with himself. And he had been forceful. He had spent many years of his youth while under the tutelage of his aunt before her possible passing. She had fled from France after a rather purposeful accident on Hannibal’s part. Hannibal hadn’t dared to seek the woman out, but her age would be coming for her sooner rather than later if she were still alive.</p><p>Lady Murasaki had taught him the ideas of composing oneself and keeping control over their thoughts and actions. She had instilled in him many of the Samurai traditions from her heritage. It had helped Hannibal in his youth to quell the revenge he had so desperately wanted on men who had wronged his family, but even those teachings slipped when Hannibal had run into one of the men while in Paris. And they were slipping now. </p><p>Years of discipline did nothing to help Hannibal as his mind began to slip further away into Will. Empathy was rare. It was no wonder everyone wanted their hands on him. Empathy was, of course, special, but Hannibal was more interested in the person beneath the empathy. The real Will Graham. </p><p>Was Will an FBI special agent or a teacher? Was he a killer or an anxiety ridden man who could barely function? Was he simply autistic and that was it? Did his mind function on such a different playing field that not even Hannibal could place him even after the several weeks they had been meeting together and slowly digging into each other? </p><p>Will was somehow all of those things and yet none of those things at the same time. He occupied both spaces at once while failing to exist all together. He was a paradox in his own right and Hannibal desperately wanted to pin the man down. Peg him like a butterfly in a shadowbox. Experiment, observe, research him. Put Will under a magnifying glass and dissect him into pieces. </p><p>
  <em>“I have these migraines that won't go away and I keep having nightmares.” </em>
</p><p>He had mentioned nightmares to Hannibal once before, but Hannibal had brushed the notion off. Everyone had migraines and nightmares from time to time. That wasn’t strange in the slightest. Will’s insomnia was also not surprising. With the carnage that Will consumed on a daily basis Hannibal was certain that even someone like him would begin to suffer if he lived in it, bathed in it, breathed it in. </p><p>
  <em>“I wake up outside. The other night the police had to take me home. I was barefoot in the snow, walking down that highway before you reached the turn off for my house. I-I-I woke up on my roof this morning, Bev. I was standing right at the edge and if it weren’t for my dogs barking I think I might have-” </em>
</p><p>He might have what? Jumped? As entertaining as the idea was, and it was entertaining, Hannibal felt an unpleasant tug in his chest at the thought of Will being injured in any way that wasn’t by Hannibal’s own hand. How utterly selfish the idea was, but it was more the truth than what Hannibal had let himself feel in years. </p><p>
  <em>“...You know how I am in hospitals. I would shake myself apart from my nosocomephobia.” </em>
</p><p>Hannibal wanted to watch that happen. Wanted to see what truly frightened Will. Was that just another exaggeration or was Will really that afraid of hospitals?</p><p>
  <em>“I keep losing track of time and I keep seeing things. Things that aren’t there. Victims or killers from crimes we’ve solved sitting at my kitchen table or floating down the river when I’m trying to fish. The Achilles Mangler was in my shower yesterday, just staring at me like it’s my fault he was caught.” </em>
</p><p>Losing track of time was an interesting concept. Something that Hannibal wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before. Not even getting lost in a book or his art or his cooking, not even his killings, could distract or separate him from the illusion of time. He was painfully aware of the tick of the clock, the movement of the second hand as it counted down his own life.</p><p>Hallucinations were another thing that Hannibal wanted to explore with Will. He was under the heavy impression that Will did not partake in any drugs. At least not now. He could see an unsteady Will participating in his youth, but Will Graham would not stoop so low now. Not with how carefully he had worked his way into law enforcement. Will would fall to the legal vices of drinking if anything were going to be his death outside of Hannibal. </p><p>Hannibal had hoped to fix all of said problems with having Will sleep. It seemed to have done the trick, but Hannibal hadn’t inquired further into the incident. He was far more content with letting Will speak about whatever he wanted to speak about. Will was far more open on his own terms. It didn’t do well to push Will in any one direction unless he had given Hannibal a clear one to move in and Hannibal hated to admit that sometimes he felt like a rat in a maze that was Will Graham’s design. </p><p>The ding of a ringtone interrupted Debussy and caught Hannibal’s attention. He embarrassed himself at how quickly his hands snatched at the pocket of his suit coat to free the device from its confinements. He glanced over the screen and a light smile tugged at his lips at a text from Will. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The plane just landed. Should be at the hotel soon. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal’s thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment as he decided on the best thing to say. Why did Will make him so uncertain? At least now he could relax knowing that Will was safe. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You failed to mention where you were going that required such a long flight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-H.L. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal set his phone aside and found his abandoned wine glass, taking an impatient sip as he waited for Will’s answer. When a few excruciatingly slow minutes passed with no response, Hannibal sighed, finishing off his wine and heading to the kitchen to clean his glass. </p><p>He found himself in his room, removing his restrictive clothing from his body. His suits didn’t normally bother him, but there was something itching just beneath his skin and he nearly clawed at the fabric that encased him. </p><p>It took Hannibal being finally settled in bed before his text tone sounded again and he snatched up his phone from his nightstand. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>We’re in New Orleans. The flight wasn’t supposed to take long, but it got delayed. Some woman threw something into one of the engines. They shut down the whole airport. Of course we had to fly civilian on a day like that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She threw something into one of the engines?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-H. L. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>A coin for good luck on the flight</em> <em>. Once that was sorted, and that took hours, we finally took off.</em></p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal typed the reply several times, deleting the message each time in the want to avoid sounding like there was any more between them than there was. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's good to know that you're safe. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-H. L. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Can I call you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal stared at the message for a moment, unsure of how to respond. His immediate thought was yes, but he stopped himself before he could type it out. His reply must have taken longer than what Will had expected because another message from Will filled his screen. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Never mind. Forget I asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A smile pulled at Hannibal's lips and he sighed before dialing Will's number and setting the phone against his ear, resting back in bed. The tone sounded several times and Hannibal could see Will staring at his phone wondering if he should answer or not. </p><p>"Hello," was whispered shyly through the line and Hannibal had to fight the grin that threatened to take over his face. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled so fully and completely. </p><p>"Hello," Hannibal replied. "You have your own room?" </p><p>“I’m sharing with Bev,” Will replied with a hint of a shrug in his voice. He yawned and Hannibal closed his eyes, listening to the tired silence on the other side of the phone. “Better than trying to share one with Jack. We don’t mix well.”</p><p>“I will have to ask about that at a later date.” There was a laugh from Will. “Beverly seemed to be taking it well,” Hannibal commented after a moment longer of silence and there was a deep inhale from Will as if the man had fallen asleep and been awakened. </p><p>“She was over the moon,” Will muttered. There was a small chuckle. “I hope you know you have replaced me as her best friend.” </p><p>“Have I dear boy?” Hannibal questioned in amusement, staring up at the ceiling above him. There was a hum in answer. “Are you tired Will?” </p><p>“I don’t mix well with airplanes. My hands always ache because of how hard I hold onto the seats. I can’t relax enough to rest, especially not after why we were delayed today.” </p><p>“Are you afraid of death?” Hannibal asked curiously, brows furrowed at a rather loud and awkward laugh from Will. </p><p>“No,” he replied clearly. “I’ve always found the idea of death comforting. Without death, we’d be at loss. It’s the prospect of death that drives us to greatness. The tragedy is not to die but to be wasted.”</p><p>Hannibal thought over the words carefully for a moment. Words that sounded rather similar to things that his aunt used to say to him. Ideas that his mother would read to him from old and dusty books. Words that resonated deep in his chest, filling in a small piece of that hole that had opened up in him when he had met Will. </p><p>Hannibal cleared his throat. “What is it that you fear when on a plane then?” </p><p>There was a low growl of discomfort. “Heights are not my strong suit. The idea of dropping out of the sky is what makes me freeze up.” </p><p>“So you suffer from acrophobia and nosocomephobia,” Hannibal mused aloud curiously, adding the new information to his ever growing library that was Will Graham. </p><p>“Too bad they don’t have a fancy name for social phobia as well,” Will teased, though there was far more truth behind his words than what Hannibal would dare push at. “I might as well have pantophobia for everything that’s wrong with me.” </p><p>“Fear of hospitals I’m sure stems from all the attempts that your father took to know what was wrong with you,” Hannibal muttered, receiving a grumble on the other side of the line. “I was not trying to imply that there was in any way something wrong with you, Will. I find you to be one of the most down to earth people I have come in contact with.” </p><p>“I...” There was a small grumble that Hannibal didn’t quite catch and then a long exhale. “My father, despite how poor we were, would drag me to every possible specialist known to man. It didn’t matter where we moved to. We could move to the most remote town on the coast and the very next day I was being prodded and poked by people who could never find anything wrong with me.” </p><p>“Were you ever diagnosed with autism?” </p><p>There was an abrupt silence and Hannibal listened carefully across the line, barely able to make out a voice in the background. Beverly desperately begging Will to go out with her and the team for drinks and Will making a sad excuse of having already drunk on the plane and being tired followed by a joke about Hannibal that left Hannibal smiling and Will exasperated. </p><p>“No, I wasn’t,” Will finally said, attention back on Hannibal. “Never an official diagnostic, though you said yourself that I have it.” </p><p>“You exaggerate it,” Hannibal carefully corrected. </p><p>“What does it matter if I do?” Will challenged back, though there was nothing harsh in his tone. Simple teasing. “How do you see me?”  </p><p>“We’ve already discussed this, but if you want my honest opinion, I do believe you to have Asperger’s.” </p><p>“Generous of you, Doctor,” Will snorted. “And what about you? What happened to you?” </p><p>“Nothing happened to me, Will. I happened. As you have previously stated, you can't reduce me to a set of influences. I’m not the product of anything.” </p><p>“Hmm...” Will hummed. “Can you tell me about your first?” </p><p>Hannibal’s mouth twisted down into a frown and he shifted uncomfortably on his bed as images of a long ago night replayed through his mind without his permission. Something that he desperately tried to push to the very back of his mind only to have it surface again at the most inopportune moments. </p><p>“Another night, dear boy,” Hannibal muttered with a small breath, praying that that would be more than enough for the empath. It was time to test his words from earlier that morning. “Maybe in person would be far better. Something a little more under my control than a phone call.” </p><p>“Alright,” Will agreed without hesitation, sending gratefulness flooding through Hannibal. </p><p>“What’s happening in New Orleans that requires your attention?” If he could just steer the conversation in a different direction. If he could move things away from him, the less Will knew about him the safer Hannibal would be. </p><p>“Have you ever heard of the Axeman of New Orleans?” </p><p>“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure,” Hannibal answered after a moment of careful contemplation, his mind coming up empty. </p><p>There was a sharp inhale from Will and a shocked, “Really?” </p><p>“It is not my job to constantly live in murderous minds, Will,” Hannibal reminded easily. “Though I am rather intrigued and would like to know more about this axeman if you would be so kind.” </p><p>There was a snort of laughter. “Right. It’s entirely my fault to think that someone like you would have as dark a mind as mine.” There was another small huff of laughter and Hannibal closed his eyes at the sound, something pleasantly relaxing in it. “Back in the early 1900’s there was a killer who would go around and break into people’s houses and kill them with their own axes. There was never anything stolen or anything identifying left at the scenes. Most of the victims were Italian immigrants and so many people thought it was a mafia hit or something stupid like that.”</p><p>“Was it?” </p><p>“No one knows. The crimes were never solved and they stopped.” </p><p>“Stopped?” Hannibal asked, brows raising curiously, though he kept his eyes closed, allowing Will’s voice to soothe over the ache of missing the man. </p><p>“Yeah. He was a bit of a dramatic. You would have probably liked him.” There was more laughter from Will and the man continued on before Hannibal had a chance to argue. “He sent a letter to the police. It was sensational. He was quite the poet.” </p><p>“What did the letter say?” </p><p>“<em>Now, to be exact, at 12:15, earthly time, on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is: I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of your people who do not jazz it out on that specific Tuesday night, if there be any, will get the axe</em>,” Will quoted in an easy voice as if he had the words directly in front of him to read. There was something giddy in his voice as he continued on. “Everyone that night played jazz music. The bars and dance halls were stuffed full and bands played all night. People left their front doors and windows open while blasting records from their homes. No one died that night or any time after that.” </p><p>“That person is well dead by now,” Hannibal pointed out, deep in thought over the letter. “Earthly time?” </p><p>“The letter said, <em>I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell,”</em> Will explained. “He claims to be from Tartarus as well. Might as well have been with the way he just up and disappeared. Curious thing is that most serial killers don’t stop unless they are stopped. So why did he stop? Was it because he had what he needed to last him a few more years before he needed to kill again? Or was it because he worked in a profession that wouldn’t allow him to further his body count without careful precision?” Hannibal could hear the tease in Will’s words, Hannibal’s own reasonings put out in the universe between them as well as Will’s, though he doubted that anyone other than the two of them would ever understand the meaning behind the words. “Or did he get too old to kill again? Did he die himself?” </p><p>“You’re working a cold case?” Hannibal cut in, doing his best to move the subject once more away from himself. He knew exactly what Will was doing and he nearly applauded the man for it. There was a reason Jack had sought him out. A reason he was so well, and so horribly, looked on from his peers in his profession and why therapy didn’t work on him. As he had said. He knew all of the tricks. He was trying to get Hannibal to slip up and talk about himself and it wasn’t about to happen. “That seems a little out of your department.” </p><p>“Not a cold case, no. Though that might be fun to delve into some day. See what I could possibly find from someone long dead.” There was a thoughtful hum from Will. “I would have to do far more research into the times and the suspects and that might just make me a regular detective by that point.” Another light laugh that had Hannibal smiling. “Would that fit me?” </p><p>“Not in the slightest, dear boy,” Hannibal complimented sweetly. There was something much easier about not having the man’s eyes on him that allowed for Hannibal to not feel like he was gasping for air. “There is nothing regular about you and I would argue to say that there shouldn’t be anything regular about you.” </p><p>“Are you flirting with me, Hannibal?” </p><p>“Merely praising your mind, dear boy.” </p><p>“Mhmm...” Will murmured sarcastically. </p><p>“Humor me Will,” Hannibal said with a sigh, pulling the conversation back on track. “Why are you in New Orleans?” </p><p>“There’s been a run of copycat killings. Italians being killed with their own axes, some of their throats slit by a straight razor. A panel on their back doors is pried open with a chisel and then the woman of the house is killed if the man isn’t present, or both are killed if the man is present.” </p><p>“And why is that so pressing now?” </p><p>“There’s a survivor they want us to interview.” </p><p>“Is it safe to assume that the man suffered from head trauma?” </p><p>“Not a man,” Will corrected. “The killer has gone so far into the details of the case, that he’s followed the killings exactly. A straight razor killing, one that was said to have possibly belonged to the axeman, but no one could prove it. Then a man and wife. The wife’s throat was cut so deeply she was nearly decapitated. Then a man and his mistress. The mistress died later at the hospital and was in and out of consciousness so much that her statements contradict each other. This woman who survived was 28 years old and eight months pregnant.” </p><p>Hannibal’s stomach turned at the thought. There were a lot of unsightly things that he could handle, unsightly things that he had participated in, but there was something that came with the idea of children being hurt in any way that made Hannibal sick. And maybe he could say that it stemmed from what had happened with his sister, but his own private rule of leaving children unharmed would always stay strong. </p><p>“She lived?” </p><p>“Bashed in the face repeatedly with a lamp from the bedside table before an axe was used,” Will answered, a hint of anger in his tone that surprised Hannibal. </p><p>“And the child?” </p><p>“Healthy baby girl,” Will replied. A breath of relief ran through Hannibal. “The killer got the gender of the baby right, Hannibal. He made sure that this woman lived. He has to know these people, or at least stalks them religiously. He had to get into their medical files because not even the husband knew what they were having. His statement said that they were keeping it a surprise until the baby was born.” </p><p>“Could it have been the doctor?” Hannibal supplied as his mind ran over the smidge of details he was being given. “Medical knowhow might be important in knowing exactly where to hit someone with an axe and have them live.” </p><p>“Their doctor has a solid alibi,” Will grumbled, obviously annoyed with the answer. </p><p>“See what nurses were working the day that the doctor knew the sex of the baby,” Hannibal threw out. Anything to help Will see a little clearer. Anything to get that man back home as soon as possible. As comfortable as it was speaking over the phone, as safe as the distance between them was, Hannibal found himself longing for the breathlessness that those blue eyes brought him. </p><p>“Why?” There was utter confusion in Will’s voice and Hannibal did his best to push away the way that his chest tightened at the deliciousness of Will’s obliviousness. </p><p>Hannibal gave a light chuckle. “Nurses usually know the diagnosis long before the doctor does. They handle the paperwork as well. Nurses are just as competent as any doctor, Will. They’re not mindless drones. They can stitch up wounds and prescribe medications better than some of the doctors I’ve worked with.” </p><p>“I-I-uh...” Will stuttered, taken aback by the information. “I will look into that. Thank you Hannibal.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply, mind still racing over the facts. He could understand the pull to want to work in a profession like this. It was much like being a doctor. One was given a puzzle to solve with stakes much higher than just helping a mouse to a piece of cheese. Life and death were what you were playing for and the prospect was exhilarating. </p><p>“If your copycat is recreating the crimes, who died next?” Hannibal pushed, once more hoping that his help would bring Will back to Virginia sooner rather than later. An hour was far more convenient than seven or eight states. </p><p>“Uh...” there was a pause as Will was lost in thought and Hannibal waited patiently for the answer. “An elderly man living with his two nieces.” </p><p>“That should help narrow it down extensively, I would assume.” </p><p>“Yes, it should,” Will whispered with a small breath. One that Hannibal knew well. One that he had heard from previous relationships, one that Will used in the same way. A breath of air that somehow held a mountain of emotion in it and meant that something sentimental was about to be said. Something that Hannibal couldn’t let be said. “Hannibal, I-” </p><p>“You didn’t mention that you caught the Achilles Mangler,” Hannibal cut in quickly, bringing Will to a silent stop. “Beverly said you found something with the car. Do explain, dear boy.” </p><p>There was a sad sort of sigh, but Will obliged. “Yes. His alibi was based on his truck being somewhere with CCTV footage.” </p><p>“And was it?” </p><p>There was a chuckle from Will. “Everyone thought it was. The footage was too grainy to get a license plate off of it and the truck was the same make and model.” </p><p>“How did you figure it out, cunning boy?” </p><p>“I’m cunning now?” Will teased with another laugh that warmed Hannibal. </p><p>“You’ve always been cunning, dear boy,” Hannibal answered, the words leaving him far easier than they should have. Something about his usual filter always disappeared when he was speaking to Will, his normal mask being partly pried away, though never fully dissolved. He couldn’t afford that. Would never be able to afford that even with someone like Will beside him. “What about the truck gave it away?” </p><p>“The back of the sideview mirrors were white, not black. The car in the footage had been wrapped.” </p><p>“A detail that small-” </p><p>“Has solved more than enough crimes. There was a kidnapping committed back in the 90’s where they only had the last sighting of the girl being picked up in a car on security video. They couldn’t find the car until someone noticed a crack in one of the hubcaps. They found a car with the same crack in the hubcap and arrested the guy who later admitted he did it.” There was what sounded like a shrug on the other side of the line, something with a smile attached to it. “It takes the small details to find people. This nurse angle might prove vital, Hannibal. Thank you.” </p><p>“You sound like an actual agent, Will. Be careful. People might start to think that you care.” </p><p>“I do care,” Will objected quickly, the warmth in his voice immediately gone. “You think I don’t?” </p><p>“We have never broached the subject,” Hannibal swiftly rectified, sitting up a little further in bed, readying himself for a fight. Will’s temper was oftentimes an unpredictable fuse. “I was in no way trying to imply something about you, Will.” </p><p>“But that is what you think, isn’t it?” Will pressed, voice hurt beneath the obvious curiosity that was there. “You think that I do this job for some sort of weird power trip, don’t you?” </p><p>“It’s one working theory on my end,” Hannibal admitted.  </p><p>“I don’t. I do it to save people, Hannibal.” The words came through a tight jaw and Hannibal frowned. “I do it for the families and their friends. I do it because I have the abilities to make a difference in these people’s lives, not because I hold sway over the victims in any way. It’s not some life or death God complex.” </p><p>“And what made you want to do this as your profession?” Hannibal asked in as kind of a voice as he could, not wanting to upset Will further. “What compelled you to go into law enforcement?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Will grumbled. “Beverly was doing it and it just sounded interesting, I guess.” </p><p>Hannibal smirked at the weak response. “Come now, dear boy. Don’t make me think that you truly aren’t cunning.” </p><p>“It doesn’t have anything to do with my hobbies if that’s what you’re implying. That’s just a happy side effect,” Will shot back. He inhaled deeply and exhaled before a small silence that Hannibal let sit. “I have never really thought about it before. It just sounded like a good idea. Maybe something of a deterrent from other parts of me. Maybe trying to be a better person than I currently was.” </p><p>“And did it make you a better person?” </p><p>There was a sarcastic snort. “It gave me a stab wound to the shoulder, rotator cuff issues and a stifling amount of anxiety around guns.” </p><p>“Guns?” Hannibal mused for a moment. “Trigger happy? Muscle memory around guns is not uncommon for officers. Once the first round is spent the others will naturally follow without thought. Stimulus does result in response.” </p><p>“I’ve never shot anyone,” Will admitted softly. “My anxiety comes from pulling the trigger. That’s why I was stabbed. I hesitated.” </p><p>“Someone with a knife could reach you quicker than you can pull your-” </p><p>“I had left my partner back in the car. Dead end alleyway. He had the knife in hand and I had my gun pulled and aimed. My hands were trembling. This man had killed his girlfriend and set the apartment on fire. Then he took her two year old son and massacred him behind a K-Mart and I couldn’t pull the trigger. I couldn’t do it. Why couldn’t I do it?” Before Hannibal could respond there was a hurt laugh from Will who continued on in his story. “Stabbed me and ran away. Luckily my partner caught him before he could get away. I was effectively removed from the force after a breakdown and I moved to escape the embarrassment. Tried to become an agent and couldn’t make it through the screening process. Was too unstable. Became a teacher instead because those who can’t do, teach.” </p><p>“Why couldn’t you pull the trigger, Will?” Hannibal asked carefully, just as curious in the question as Will had sounded. </p><p>“I empathized with him.” The words were a whisper. “The girlfriend was a crime of passion. She broke up with him and he snapped. The little boy saw everything and he just had to make sure the boy didn’t talk. He didn’t want to kill the child. It was his too.” </p><p>“The boy would have forgotten eventually. Infantile amnesia would have aided to that, not to mention that the trauma stemming from the killing might have been suppressed.”</p><p>“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Will teased, but it only yanked harshly at Hannibal’s heart.</p><p> “He could have left with the child,” Hannibal immediately continued, doing his best to keep the pain from his tone. “Started over.” </p><p>“I told you that where I was from was trailer park trash. Uneducated hillbilly scum. He was just afraid. He was scared, Hannibal. Who hasn’t been so petrified and trapped in something that they only dug themselves deeper all while trying to get out? He couldn’t ask for help because who would help him?” </p><p>“Did you want to ask for help, Will?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Hannibal licked at his lips, carefully picking his words. “That boy you saw touching that little girl. Did you want to ask for help then, Will?” </p><p>There was a sharp inhale as if the air had been sucked from the room. “I couldn’t ask for help because who would help me?” Will answered, voice barely audible. “I survived on my own just as I always have. I don’t need help now.” </p><p>“I suppose not, dear boy.” Hannibal inhaled deeply, the heaviness of the conversation sitting strangely in his chest. “Forgive me, Will. I did not mean for this conversation to take this direction.” </p><p>“You just have a lot of returning to do,” Will teased. “I think I told you that my past does not come freely.” </p><p>“So it doesn’t,” Hannibal agreed. “Would you thank Beverly for dinner? It was delightful.” </p><p>“You liked it,” Will stated, something not quite a question, but Hannibal answered it as such anyways. </p><p>“I did. It reminded me of home.” </p><p>“How long has it been since you’ve been there?” </p><p>“Twenty-five years ago,” Hannibal replied thoughtfully. “I haven’t stepped foot back in that home since I returned at eighteen to bury my sister. I doubt I have the strength to return there now.” </p><p>“Bury...?” Will repeated, but didn’t finish the sentence and Hannibal winced at the information he had let slip. Information that no one else knew. Information that he had been so careful to hide away, even from himself. A truth that he had been able to repress until he was in his late teens. “Hannibal, I-I-you don’t have to tell me any more.” </p><p>“Thank you, dear boy,” Hannibal whispered, mouth suddenly very dry. “I think we should call it a night. It’s rather late and you’ve had a trying day.” </p><p>“Oh.” There was disappointment in the word. “Of course.” The disappointment was quickly shoved away. “I have to be up early tomorrow anyways. I’ll let you know how the nurse angle pans out.” </p><p>“I would quite enjoy that, Will.” Hannibal closed his eyes and rubbed at them, something cold in his blood chilling him. “I suppose a good night is in order.” </p><p>“Hannibal-” </p><p>“Good night, Will.”  </p><p>“W-wait!” Will said quickly and Hannibal grimaced at the desperation in his voice. “I-I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, I don’t really have anyone to tell, but... I’ll keep your secrets.” </p><p>“And I will keep yours,” Hannibal answered without a thought. </p><p>“Good night Hannibal.” There was a hint of a smile to Will’s tone before the line was disconnected and Hannibal was left alone with his mistakes that would keep him awake the rest of the night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact:<br/>All of the cases mentions here were things that have really happened. Same with the previous chapters. I pull from real cases. The Axeman of New Orleans is an interesting case. I think Morbid did a really good episode. I think it's episode nine? And then there was a woman a few years back who was throwing coins into plane engines for good luck. You can google that one. The one with the truck mirrors was on forensic files, I think. Same with the hubcap one. As for the woman and her son, that was something that happened in my town when I was growing up. I can't find any new articles on it because of how tiny my town was, but the K-Mart there is, to this day nearly 15 years later, still decorated as a memorial to the boy.</p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I lay back and tried not to think of the minutes passing. Just yesterday we had a wealth of them. Now each was a drop of heartsblood lost.” </p><p>― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys. This chapter was interesting to try to write. Please let me know what you guys think!</p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<hr/><p>The air was cold in her sitting room. Even as she poured out two glasses of wine and passed one to Hannibal, the room stayed the same detached and icy distance. The blonde woman took her normal seat across from Hannibal, legs folded and sipped on her wine.</p><p>Hannibal was silent for a moment, regarding his glass. He had always been rather close to Bedelia even before she was his psychiatrist. She, just as he had done for Alana, mentored him as he went to school and their relationship had always been a bit rockier than patient, doctor, and colleague.</p><p>Hannibal could recall rushed and hurried meetings in staff closets and offices, though he wasn’t so sure if Bedelia remembered them or not. She pretended that they had never occurred and so Hannibal let them be. All those tedious sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars were simply that. Tedious and served no real purpose other than securing one more relationship for him to pull the strings of.</p><p>“For the first time in a long while, I see a possibility of friendship,” Hannibal finally said, eyes still on his wine.</p><p>Bedelia glanced up from where she had been fetching her notebook and pen and paused before letting a hardly there smile pull at her lips. “Is there someone new in your life?” she asked, a hint of curiosity there, though it was more for show than her caring. Hannibal had found that out early on. She stayed pleasantly calm for being what she was, what Hannibal knew all too well. She held herself in a rather surprising grace, once more living in the denial that what she had done could make her something more than she already was. What Will was.</p><p>“I met a man much like myself,” Hannibal answered with a nod, mind finding cinnamon hints in his wine that only reminded him of Will’s unholy halo of curls. “Same hobbies, same worldviews, but I’m not sure if I’m interested in being his friend.” Hannibal inhaled deeply in thought, the fight that had been plaguing his mind finally able to come to life in the safety of this relationship. “I’m curious about him and that got me curious about friendship.”</p><p>There was another hint of a smile on the blonde’s lips and she took a sip of her wine before setting that and her notebook aside. She sat on her hands, focused completely on Hannibal, eyes sparkling with mischief as if there was finally something interesting happening.</p><p>“Whose friendship are you considering?”</p><p>“Oddly enough, a colleague and a patient, not unlike how I’m a colleague and a patient of yours.” Hannibal scented his wine for a moment and took a small sip before placing the glass aside. “We’ve discussed him before.”</p><p>“Will Graham.”</p><p>“He’s nothing like me,” Hannibal muttered, head to the side in thought. “And somehow everything like me. We see the world in different ways, and yet in the same ways. And maybe that has to do with how he can assume my point of view.”</p><p>“By profiling the criminally insane,” Bedelia pointed out, brows knitted together in confusion though that smile still played over her lips.</p><p>“As good a demonstration as any,” Hannibal shot back, though his voice stayed level. “I find it reassuring.”</p><p>Bedelia inhaled stiffly. “It’s nice when someone sees us, Hannibal.”</p><p>
  <em>I see you. See me.</em>
</p><p>“Or has the ability to see us,” she continued, doing nothing but pulling Odette to the forefront of Hannibal’s mind. A silent begging to be noticed and appreciated. “It requires trust. Trust is difficult for you.”</p><p>How difficult had it been for Will?</p><p>
  <em>I don’t trust easily, especially after what you did. You’ll have to earn it back.</em>
</p><p>Hannibal licked his lips in thought. “You’ve helped me to better understand what I want in a friendship, and what I don’t,” he said, letting out a held breath with his words.</p><p>“Someone worthy of your friendship.” It wasn’t a question per se, but Hannibal could hear the push behind the words as if they were distrusting of Hannibal’s intent. And maybe Bedelia had every right to be distrusting. Hannibal still wasn’t entirely set on what he was doing with his newfound companion as of yet.</p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal admitted with a small nod, eyes dropping down to the hands folded in his lap as his fingers squirmed restlessly.</p><p>“You spend a lot of time building walls, Hannibal. It’s natural to want to see if someone is...” she paused, head tipping to the side as she decided on her words. “Clever enough to climb over them.”</p><p>Clever. What a perfect word. That was the embodiment of dear Will. A clever little boy. The mongoose under the house when the snakes slither by. A monster that was just as dangerous as Hannibal and just as brilliant, if not more so. Mentally bright, a sharp and quick intellect and tongue. But that was all he was. He was... amusing. A competent player in a game of chess, but of no lasting value. Hannibal had been playing fate in a game of chess long before Will had come along and he wasn’t about to let his king fall to the likes of a pawn.</p>
<hr/><p>“I have been unspeakably rude,” Hannibal said above light classical music that was playing as he rested his knife back on his cutting board to glance up at a rather quiet Alana who was busy at her own cutting board. She stopped, a lovely smile coming to her red painted lips. She lowered her knife and pushed a brunette curl from her face. “I haven’t offered you a drink.”</p><p>“I appreciate beer more than wine,” she said back, voice sweet.</p><p>Hannibal smiled and stepped away from his cutting board with that night's meal being prepared, and went around the island to the fridge. “It’s not what you appreciate,” he corrected warmly. “It’s that you appreciate.” He opened the fridge. “A compromise?” He reached for a sealed bottle and turned back to Alana. “Beer brewed in a wine barrel. Two years.”</p><p>The bottle sat cold and heavy in his hand, a satisfaction nowhere near as pleasing anymore since his first meal with Will. Would Will be able to guess what or who was in the beer if he served the man some? Would Will truly care who was in it? He, while stating his disapproval, had been rather tolerable in his partaking in Hannibal’s proclivities. Complimented every last thing that Hannibal made whether it was made of creatures or individuals.</p><p>Alana gave an interested look and left her station, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. The bottle popped as Hannibal opened it.</p><p>“I bottled it myself,” he announced. Normally he would have been proud of the achievement, but there was no one here to belittle said achievement with a brilliant smile and Botticelli blue eyes. No tortuous laugh to trivialize Hannibal’s painstaking work.</p><p>“I’m impressed,” Alana said as Hannibal made himself busy distributing the beer into a glass for Alana. She watched him carefully and took the outheld glass, smelling at it before taking a sip. The buzz of excited electricity didn’t come at his little secret that he kept close to his chest. It wasn’t a secret anymore. The FBI knew the secret now, though not to the same extent that Will did. It wasn’t quite as entertaining anymore.</p><p>“A Cabernet Sauvignon wine barrel,” Alana said after a moment of careful compilation.</p><p>Hannibal gave a small smile at how easily she could pick notes out of the drink. She had a knack for knowing everything she spoke about. Even if she disliked wines, she would not have been shamed in any way at a wine tasting. Will, on the other hand, would have not cared for a moment if the most expensive red and the cheapest white were mixed and said to make a rosé.</p><p>When did he suddenly start comparing everything in his life to Will? When did Will become his true north for whether or not something held worth? Why did Will’s poor upbringing that lent to rude characteristics hold so much more charm over a woman of breeding and refinement?</p><p>“I love your palate,” Hannibal complimented, heading back to his station, but not before setting the open bottle on Alana’s so she could pour herself more when she finished her first glass.</p><p>“I love your beer,” she shot back with a smile. Hannibal picked back up his knife to continue his work on the pork chops. “I taste oak. What else do I taste in there?”</p><p>Hannibal glanced up to find her taking another sip. “I will only answer that yes or no,” he muttered as he added salt and pepper to each side of the two chops that had been marinating all morning.</p><p>“Are you going to be serving this at your next dinner party?” she asked, setting the glass aside to begin halving the figs and grapes that Hannibal had set her to work on.</p><p>“No,” Hannibal answered, hating the way that the normally harmless flirting felt dirty rolling off of his tongue. “This is your reserve.”</p><p>Alana stopped her work and looked up with an incredulous look on her face. “My own private reserve?” she asked back, the shock very well hidden in her voice, though it was not missed by Hannibal. “Why, thank you.”</p><p>He had to change the subject. He couldn’t stand the pleasantries anymore. Normally small talk did not bother him, in fact, he quite enjoyed the little games that everyone played around each other when no one liked each other. Just not tonight. Not when there were a million other things he would rather be doing than chatting up a colleague that he hadn’t seen for the better part of the last several years, let alone thought of for the last several years.</p><p>“I’m curious about something,” he announced, heading over to his cabinets to get a skillet. He placed it on the stove and added some oil to heat up before he preheated his oven and got a baking sheet ready. “Are you purposefully avoiding the subject of Will Graham?”</p><p>Of all of the many billions of subjects in the universe he could have picked from and Will was what he picked. He could barely believe that the question had slipped from his mouth, though it wasn’t quite out of place. Will had been what had brought Alana into his home for dinner, nothing else. Hannibal would have been happy to continue without the woman’s presence in his life, but the fact that Alana knew Will was more than enough for Hannibal to tolerate the company for the next several hours. After all, Will had said that Hannibal couldn’t pry information out of Beverly, not out of Alana.</p><p>There was a small silence as Alana put the finished figs into a bowl. “Absolutely.” Her voice was soft, eyes watching Hannibal curiously.</p><p>“Not on my account, I hope.” Hannibal moved back over to the skillet and placed both pork chops down, the meat sizzling as it hit the warmed oil that was there. “I’m happy to get your perspective.”</p><p>Alana picked up the bowl with the figs and grapes and brought them to the stove side, beer in hand. She rested against the counter to watch Hannibal work, taking another drink of beer with a small shrug. “No, it’s on Jack Crawford’s account.” There was a sigh and Hannibal glanced over the woman before turning both pork chops over to sear the other side. “I don’t want any information about Will that I shouldn’t have as his friend.”</p><p>Alana considered them friends? What an odd idea. Will had mentioned nothing of the sort. No further attachment to the woman other than that they occasionally worked together and she found him to be unsettlingly unstable.</p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply. “Did Jack ask you to profile the Ripper?” It was not a bad question by any means. Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure what Alana’s function was in the FBI. Again, the most that he knew was from Will who said that she mostly subbed his classes when he was needing help.</p><p>“Not since I consulted on the case with Miriam,” Alana answered with another slight shrug. “Before she disappeared.”</p><p>Hannibal couldn’t stop himself from carefully watching Alana take another drink of beer. Beer that had been aged for the exact amount of time that the previously mentioned young woman had been missing.</p><p>“Crawford’s trainee,” Hannibal answered, making sure to keep his voice a bit insecure as if he didn’t know who they were talking about.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Very sad.” Hannibal pulled the meat from the pan and placed it on the baking sheet, putting it in the oven to continue cooking. His hands worked effortlessly as they found some vinegar and added it to the drippings in the skillet.</p><p>“You had me examining Ph.D. candidates that week,” Alana continued thoughtfully.</p><p>“And I’m grateful you were examining Ph.D. students and not the Ripper.”</p><p>It was the absolute truth. He could pull a wool over Alana’s eyes, but she always came to the right conclusion. He had seen her do it multiple times under his mentorship. There was no possible way out, a locked room without a key, and she was always able to find one. If she would have been working with Miriam, Hannibal was certain that he would have been found out far sooner than when Miram had been able to locate him. But he had to move on in the subject. The Ripper was a dangerous name to be playing with around anyone but Will.</p><p>“You realize those candidates thought we were having an affair.” Hannibal looked up with a smile shot at Alana before he began adding red pepper flakes, salt and honey to his reduction. “Why didn’t we?”</p><p>He already knew the answer. There was nothing to gain from a relationship being pushed that far with Alana. Bedelia had been something different altogether. Alana was a little simpler. She liked to believe in the good in everyone and that still rang true at that moment. Despite everything that she had seen working for Jack Crawford, she still had a bright outlook on the world. An outlook that Hannibal had seen many around him lose. An outlook he had lost until an anxious man with seven dogs found him.</p><p>“You were already having an affair,” Alana answered simply with a small huff of laughter. Hannibal thought back to those years, trying to locate who she was referring to, but her next words stopped his mind dead in its tracks. “Will does that too, you know?”</p><p>“What?” Hannibal asked with a smile as he tipped the bowl of grapes and figs into the pan and added some sprigs of rosemary. “Have affairs?”</p><p>“Flirtatiously change the subject,” Alana replied smugly, taking another drink of her beer. “You have that pathology in common.”</p><p>“Or we just have you in common,” Hannibal excused. “I recall even before I met Will, you never spoke about him.” Alana had only mentioned earlier how long the two had known each other. A year before Hannibal had met her.</p><p>Alana inhaled deeply as if debating on the best way to answer the sentiment. “Probably because I just want everybody to leave him alone.” Hannibal removed the sauce from the burner and placed it on another before meeting Alana’s gaze as a small silence fell between them, waiting to be interrupted, Hannibal determined that it wasn’t going to be him. “It’s not even about Will.” Alana’s finger traced the rim of her Pilsner glass. “Jack’s obsessed with the Ripper and he’s grooming Will to catch him.”</p><p><em>He’s already found me</em>, Hannibal thought, hands holding tightly to the edge of the counter, faith was suddenly shaken. He still hadn’t placed Will. Sure, it had been weeks and Hannibal had outright confessed to being the Ripper, but Jack’s Reign of Terror hadn’t befallen him yet. Was it all a matter of time? Whose side was Will playing?</p><p>Jack’s side would keep him safe. Jack’s side was all about protection. Hannibal’s side was nothing more than just some sick fantasy that the two of them had dreamt up without telling the other their visions. They had blindfolded each other and said good luck. But if Will was playing both sides, what was he trying to get out of it? Had he not fully decided which side to pick yet? Hannibal was still so utterly in the dark and that had been fine until this moment, but now he desperately wanted a light, even if it was a single match, just to know Will’s intentions.</p><p>“And I sincerely hope he does,” Hannibal muttered in a lie. He turned back to the oven and retrieved the two pork chops with a kitchen towel as a hot pad. He placed both onto two plates he had set out and set the baking sheet aside.</p><p>“You approve then?”</p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, weighing the question before answering it. “Of Jack and his methods, absolutely not. There is a reason that I work with Will constantly to maintain his mental stability. But if anyone is going to be able to catch the Ripper, it will be Will.” Hannibal added a radicchio salad to the plate before garnishing each in turn with a vinaigrette and then the agrodolce. “Pork chops with fig and grape agrodolce,” he said, holding out a plate to Alana who followed him into his dining room and took the chair beside the head of the table.</p><p>“Looks wonderful, Hannibal. As it always has.”</p><p>“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” Hannibal asked back, taking his seat. “Forgive me for my lack of communication.”</p><p>Alana shook her head and took a bite of the salad. “Life can get in the way. I understand,” she excused. “And Will can be a handful.”</p><p>“He...” Hannibal trailed off, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. “He is a bit needier than I think he would like to admit.”</p><p>“That doesn’t surprise me. He isolates himself to the point of becoming nonexistent. I’m sure he’s socially hungry, touch starved.” Alana shrugged around another bite. “Distance keeps him safe.”</p><p>“You’ve been observing him while you’ve been lecturing at the academy, yes?” Hannibal asked back curiously.</p><p>“I’ve never been in a room alone with Will,” Alana explained and Hannibal nearly scolded himself as a sense of relief flooded through him that Will hadn’t been lying about kissing Alana.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Alana looked over Hannibal for a moment before setting down her silverware to regard him fully. “Because I want to be his friend, and I am.”</p><p>Hannibal set his fork and knife down and met Alana’s blue gaze head-on. A gaze that was nearly as icy as Will’s, but didn’t quite hold the same life. “It seems a shame not to take advantage.” Alana’s lips turned down. “Academically speaking,” Hannibal corrected swiftly.</p><p>“Jack’s already asked me to do a study on him and I’ve said no,” Alana explained with a sigh. “Anything scholarly on Will Graham would have to be published posthumously.” There was no lie in the words. Hannibal was certain that Will would wholeheartedly agree as well. Will was a private person who didn’t even like Hannibal digging around in his mind. Hannibal was tolerated and Hannibal couldn’t begin to fathom how Will would respond to anyone else being let into how his mind functioned.</p><p>“So, you’ve never been alone with him because you have a professional curiosity about him?” Hannibal clarified, receiving a nod as an answer.</p><p>Alana inhaled deeply and returned to her food. “Normally I wouldn’t even broach this, but what do you think one of Will’s strongest drives is? You must have noticed while working with him.”</p><p>“Fear,” Hannibal answered easily as if it were written on the wall. It hadn’t been that clear cut until now. Hannibal should have better understood when Will had mentioned nightmares the first time.</p><p>“Mmhmm...” Alana agreed with another nod.</p><p>“Will Graham deals with huge amounts of fear,” Hannibal mused carefully, hoping that Alana wouldn’t try to dig deeper into why Hannibal found that so suddenly intriguing. “It comes with his imagination.”</p><p>“It’s the price of imagination,” Alana corrected lightly. “I hate that Will is out there, but I’m glad someone like you is there for him, Hannibal. That way he’s not out there alone.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of letting Will make his way upstream without the use of a paddle,” Hannibal assured.</p><p>“Promise me something, Hannibal.” Hannibal’s hands stopped in their movements of cutting his pork chop and he looked up curiously at the worry that laced Alana’s voice. “It’s not that I don’t trust Jack, but...” Alana sighed heavily. “Don’t let Will get too close.”</p><p>“He won’t,” Hannibal agreed with a nod. “I won’t let him get too close.”</p>
<hr/><p>“We’re checking up on the alibi. Seems pretty airtight though,” Will’s voice answered through the phone. “And we have several families under police protection, so other than that there’s been no action.”</p><p>“Rather unfortunate, Will,” Hannibal sympathized with a small breath as he continued in his drawing, his mind truly unfocused on what he was doing when there was a sweeter voice in his ear than the image in his mind.</p><p>“The nurse lawyered up immediately as well as having a solid alibi.” Will gave a deep and tired sigh. “And obtaining a lawyer is so difficult to work with.”</p><p>“Because they won’t speak?”</p><p>“No,” Will replied in an almost unsure tone. Hannibal’s pencil stopped for a moment as he waited for Will to continue. “I mean, that helps, but no. It puts you on the fence. It makes you look completely and utterly guilty because an innocent person would have nothing to hide and no reason to lawyer up. But any sane person would obtain a lawyer the moment they’re under suspicion. I’m sure you have one.”</p><p>“On retainer,” Hannibal answered with a small smile, returning to the errant curl he was shading. “I have had patients from time to time who like to toe the lines between patient and doctor and sometimes legal action is needed.”</p><p>Will laughed. “Like me?”</p><p>“Are you my patient or are we just having conversations, Will?”</p><p>“Yes I think is the answer to that.” The words were said slowly, thoughtfully and Hannibal couldn’t stop the grin coming to his lips. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Enjoying a rather lovely <em>Château Pape Clément</em> and sketching in my study,” Hannibal replied, shifting the phone to a better angle in his hand so he could in turn get a better grip on his pencil.</p><p>“What are you drawing?”</p><p>“A rather missed and petulant boy.”</p><p>There was a slight pause, though something smug came through the line of the phone, and Hannibal’s hand once more stopped, the pencil being set aside so Hannibal could lean all of his focus into the conversation.</p><p>“You do miss me,” Will finally whispered.</p><p>“I suppose I do,” Hannibal admitted with a deep breath.</p><p>“How much do you miss me?”</p><p>Hannibal leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “Do not push your luck, Will.”</p><p>“Indulge me for once.”</p><p>“I indulge you plenty,” Hannibal scolded only to be met with a chuckle.</p><p>“How much do you miss me, Doctor Lecter?”</p><p>Hannibal opened his eyes and reached out for his wine, swirling it in his grip while trying to come up with a suitable answer. “I expect you for dinner when you return.”</p><p>“To sit beside you or be on your table?” Will asked back quickly as if the words had already been poised on his tongue and ready to be said.</p><p>“That remains to be seen,” Hannibal teased back, words flowing so much easier between the two of them than any other conversation outside of theirs ever had. There was a huff of laughter in his ear.</p><p>“There are worse things that I could be, I suppose,” Will mused, tone light. “Like a stuffy, old doctor who drinks far too expensive wine when they all taste the same. Just buy some boxed wine. Bev drinks it and I swear it’s the exact same and a hundred times cheaper.”</p><p>“Stuffy, old doctor?” Hannibal repeated, unsure he had heard the insult correctly.</p><p>“Don’t take it to heart, Doctor Lecter.”</p><p>Hannibal grumbled under his breath and took a drink of his wine before setting it aside. “I think I would prefer to stick to my stuffy, old doctor wine, Will. Thank you for the concern on behalf of my wallet though. It appreciates the attention.”</p><p>There was a sharp hiss through teeth on the other side of the line and Hannibal smiled. “At least something does.”</p><p>“Do you not feel appreciated, dear boy?”</p><p>“Oh, now I’m dear?” Will challenged. “It only took you half the night to finally say so.”</p><p>“If you so desperately wanted to be called that you merely had to ask,” Hannibal offered in a calm voice, once more reclaiming his pencil and continuing to sketch. There was a silence that fell on the other side and Hannibal waited for a moment until it was obvious that Will, oddly enough, wasn’t going to fill it. “Will?”</p><p>There was a sharp inhale and the sound of a tongue wetting lips. “You’re drawing me? How often do you do that?”</p><p>“Not often,” Hannibal assured, voice soft as he spoke. “This is the first time.”</p><p>“I would like to see it when I get back?” The words were hesitant as if unsure the request was appropriate or not.</p><p>“Of course.” Hannibal set the pencil aside once more, unable to bring himself to continue his artwork. “Just make sure you come home soon.”</p><p>“Home?”</p><p>There was something so innocent in the word and Hannibal winced. His tongue always worked without his permission when he was with Will and he couldn’t reel it back in. What was it about Will that made him forget to hold himself up to his normal level of standards? Will broke him down, made Hannibal just like everyone else, and the feeling was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Hannibal had never been equal to anyone. As wrong or right as it could have been, he saw himself above everyone. Until he was shown otherwise, he would always be better than those around him, but Will... Dear Will was above them as well.</p><p>“For not knowing what’s between us and wanting to avoid all mentions of such topics, you’re being a little open,” Will whispered and Hannibal couldn’t tell if Will was teasing or not from the lack of inflection in the empath’s voice. “I hope you don’t try to blame it on the wine.”</p><p>“No,” Hannibal said, looking over his glass. “I never indulge myself with more than a glass or two in a single evening. I’m not one to drink excessively. I’ve dealt with my fair share of alcohol poisonings, I do not need to partake in the practice as well.”</p><p>“Have you ever been drunk?” Will asked back curiously.</p><p>Hannibal licked at his lips and rose from his desk to pace the study, legs stiff from having sat so long. “Once or twice in my teens.”</p><p>“Would’ve loved to have seen that,” Will snickered and Hannibal’s chest fluttered awake at the sound. “I...” There was a nervous sigh before the explanation poured from him. “I delved a little deeper than alcohol in my youth. I thought that maybe drugs would stop all of the people who liked to live in my head. It worked for a bit, but then I had to use stronger things. A detective picked me out of the gutter and got me help. Went on my little soul search and ran into Bev. And then I returned down south and went into the police academy when I was finally fully clean.”</p><p>“What was your vice, Will?”</p><p>“Heroin.” The answer was so matter of fact that it sent a chill through Hannibal. “I tried cocaine once but it just made everything worse. I was too mentally alert, hypersensitive to sight, sound, and touch. It was a bad combination. I’ve been clean for 21 years though.”</p><p>"The voices in your head?" Hannibal asked carefully. "You don't have a family history of schizophrenia, do you?"</p><p>"No. I don't have schizophrenia," Will laughed as if the question were stupid. "I don't know how to explain it exactly. Each person imprints themselves on my mind."</p><p>"Imprints?" Hannibal repeated.</p><p>There was a small hum in answer. "I... It's hard to..." Will sighed frustratedly. "The people in the cases I work are louder. Most killers have minds like rooms. There are easy to open doors that I can walk through and explore. You were special though."</p><p>"Was I dear Will?" Hannibal had stopped his pacing, listening carefully to Will's words.</p><p>"You have a fortress where every one of the hundreds of rooms is guarded with an enigma. I was able to solve enough of them to get into the foyer, but I can't do more than gaze up and down the hallways and wander to the staircase to look up it. The complexities are astonishing."</p><p>Hannibal felt an unparalleled sense of accomplishment for being able to commit his crimes in such a way that not even the FBI's hound dog could figure him out. The most brilliant profiler didn't have a hope of deciphering Hannibal's mind.</p><p>That only strengthened the fascination that Hannibal had around the boy. Will cared too much. His gift wrecked him, tormented his every move. And that somehow only made Hannibal want to become a locksmith and give away the keys to his own mind for Will's careful person to explore because Will was the only person he would trust with such a thing.</p><p>"And your mind, Will?" Hannibal fetched his glass of wine and took another sip of it as he waited for the perfectly crafted answer that Will was bound to give him.</p><p>There was a nervous, airy chuckle. "My mind is a labyrinth," Will answered. Hannibal listened curiously, his body still in an attempt to make sure he heard every possible detail that Will was going to provide. "It's been carved out by psychosis and derangement and I don't even think I know where all of the staircases lead to." There was another laugh before Will's tone became a bit more serious. "Hannibal, I need help."</p><p>"Whatever with, dear boy?" Hannibal asked, a frown pulling at his lips.</p><p>"Can you be a doctor for a moment and not..." Will gave an irritated sigh, though Hannibal knew the sound was directed at Will's own person. "And not Hannibal?"</p><p>"Certainly," Hannibal assured with a nod. He returned to his desk and sat down, clearing his throat with his wine now set aside once more. "What do you need help with, Will?"</p><p>"I've been... Seeing things. Things that aren't there, but they're so real. So horribly real, like I could reach out my hand and touch them, but there's never anything solid when I try. It always turns to smoke when I get too close."</p><p>"You told Beverly that one of your killers was waiting for you in the shower if I recall correctly," Hannibal pointed out in a gentle tone. "Was the axeman waiting for you?"</p><p>"Was in bed with me," Will blurted out, voice choked and broken with a sob. He inhaled shakily and Hannibal leaned forward in his desk in concern. "And then I was him. Bev was asleep in bed and I smashed her head in with an axe. Hannibal, I've never hurt someone like that in my head before. Not someone like Bev."</p><p>"And you are positive that your family doesn't have any history of schizophrenia?"</p><p>Will's answer was adamant and slightly offended. "Not on my dad's side at least. I don't know about my mother's. I suppose I could dig into it, but that's not right."</p><p>"Why is it not?"</p><p>"I've been to specialists my whole life and was never diagnosed with it. I'm more than certain it was the first thing they searched for when I mentioned voices. And they're not really voices, they're my imagination creating the person's embodiment in my mind so I can live through them. It's just easier to say voices."</p><p>"And the hallucinations?" Hannibal pushed. "Those aren't-"</p><p>"I'm not normal," Will shot back harshly.</p><p>Hannibal gave a small sigh and rubbed at his eyes. "Will, I am trying to help you, but your behavior after you have asked for my help-"</p><p>"I'm sorry!" Will cut in quickly. He sounded on the verge of tears. "You're right. I just... I'm not used to the help. I'm used to them not finding anything. They won't find anything. They'll keep looking, keep taking tests, keep giving false diagnoses, bad meds, but they won't find out what's wrong. They'll just know that I'm wrong."</p><p>"You're on the edge, but not out of the range age for possible diagnosis," Hannibal explained, though he was certain Will already knew the ins and outs of the disease.</p><p>"Men are more commonly diagnosed in their early twenties. I am well out of that age range."</p><p>"When did the hallucinations start?"</p><p>"When Jack had me going back out in the field. Not before then."</p><p>Hannibal thought over the information carefully for a moment. “Will, find a piece of paper and a pen, if you would, and please keep explaining to me how you feel.”</p><p>“Alright?” Will said with uncertainty, but Hannibal could hear his movements across the line. “I can feel my nerves clicking like, uh, roller coaster cogs,” Will continued just like he was asked, “pulling up to the inevitable long plunge.”</p><p>“Quick sounds, quickly ended,” Hannibal acknowledged with a nod. “Like a burst balloon.”</p><p>There was a dry clicking from Will’s throat. “I feel like I’m fading.”</p><p>“Do you have a paper and pen Will?”</p><p>“Yeah.” The reply was airy, breathy, barely there.</p><p>“I'd like you to draw a clock face,” Hannibal instructed, picking up his pencil to examine it. “Numbered. Small hand indicating the hour, large hand the minute.”</p><p>“Why?” Will asked in utter confusion.</p><p>“An exercise. I want you to focus on the present moment. The now,” Hannibal explained, twirling the pencil between his thumb and forefinger, unsure of what else to do to keep his hands busy as he waited for Will to obey. “Often as you can, think of where you are, and when. Think of who you are.”</p><p>There was a long draw of air and a hesitant exhale from Will before Hannibal could make out the scraping of a pen on paper beneath Will’s mumbling. “Seven sixteen PM.” The words were singsongy and bored as if Will were only doing the task to appease Hannibal and nothing else. “I’m in New Orleans, Louisiana. And my name is Will Graham.”</p><p>“A simple reminder.” Hannibal set his pencil aside, wishing he could give Will a gentle smile to assure him that everything would be alright. Grounding oneself to the present was not an uncommon practice, especially for someone like Will who was flighty at the best of times while working. Will needed to learn the process of balancing his physical, emotional, mental, and energy states and reconnecting them. “The handle to reality for you to hold on to. And know you're alive.”</p><p>“What do you want me to do with the clock?” Will asked dully.</p><p>“Send me a picture of it, if you would.” Hannibal waited for a moment for his phone to buzz and he lowered it to open the picture that Will had sent. The circle was normal and the numbers started in the correct places until the number five was positioned outside of the clock face. All of the other numbers were gathered to the side and outside of the clock face, the hands nowhere near the clock face, though they did read seven sixteen, slashed through the five and seven respectively. Hannibal frowned at the image and closed his eyes for a moment before putting the phone back to his ear. “Will, you said that you had never hallucinated about killing someone like Beverly. Please explain that to me.”</p><p>“There's a grandiosity to the violence that I imagined,” Will responded slowly, obviously taking his time with his words and Hannibal listened diligently, “that feels more real than what I know is true.”</p><p>“What do you know to be true?”</p><p>There was a huff of sarcastic laughter. “I know I didn't kill her. I couldn't have. She’s out with Price and Zeller picking up dinner as we speak. But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die.”</p><p>“What kind of savage delusions does this killer have?”</p><p>“It wasn’t savage,” Will muttered with a deep sigh. “It was impartial, unbiased. Almost disinterested as if they were just killing because the option was there, not because there was any real motivation behind it. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I looked right through me, past me, as if I was a...was just a stranger.”</p><p>Hannibal was quiet for a moment in thought, mind trying to once more put together the puzzle that was Will Graham. So many pieces of the same size and color and yet none of them matched together perfectly. There were corners and the edges were slowly coming together, but without the whole image printed on the box for a reference, Hannibal was just as in the dark as he ever had been.</p><p>“You have to honestly confront your limitations with what you do,” Hannibal said after another moment. There was a deep sigh from Will in Hannibal’s ear. “And how it affects you.”</p><p>There was a slight snap to Will’s words as he spoke them. “If by limitations you mean the difference between sanity and insanity, I don't accept that.”</p><p>“What do you accept?” Hannibal challenged as softly as he could, doing his best to pick up on Will’s annoyances and not push at them too hard.</p><p>“I know what kind of crazy I am, and this isn't that kind of crazy.” Will’s voice was a desperate sob across the line and Hannibal sat back in his chair as the boy’s ragged words continued, holding to any hope that his mind was safe. “This could be... seizures. This could be a tumor. A... a blood clot.”</p><p>“I can recommend a neurologist.” Hannibal wasn’t entirely sure what else he could recommend to help Will. What came after the testing would be more testing, pills, and if all else failed, a white-walled room with orderlies to take care of Will while his mind slowly picked him apart from the inside out. “But if it isn't physiological, then you have to accept what you're struggling with is mental illness.”</p><p>There was a tense and unaccepting silence on the other side of the line and Hannibal was at a loss for what exactly to say to fill it or to comfort Will, so he let the silence reign between them.</p><p>There was a muffled sound in the background and Hannibal sat up a little straighter at Beverly’s voice. </p><p>“Suit up, Pretty Boy.” </p><p>“What’s up?” Will asked back, voice distant, having moved the phone away from his ear. </p><p>“One of the houses we had on watch was broken into. We’re supposed to check it out.” </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal called into the phone and there was a bit a shuffling before a:</p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Call me when you get back.” </p><p>“It might be late,” Will argued at the instruction and Hannibal was silent, knowing Will would understand it. There was a soft huff of laughter. “I can’t usually sleep after things like this. The adrenaline is too much. If I wake you up, it’s your own fault.” </p><p>“I welcome it,” Hannibal assured. </p><p>There was a rough sound and Hannibal could only smile at a new voice. “He loves you too, Dr. Hotass,” Beverly teased. “We’ve got to go.” </p><p>“Bev!” Will argued somewhere in the back and Hannibal shook his head. </p><p>“You hang up first?” he asked back in those stupid little cliché words, only causing Beverly to laugh over the line. </p><p>“I’ll bring him back in one piece. Don’t you worry, Dr. Hotass. Bye.” </p><p>Before Hannibal had the chance to answer back the line went silent and he lowered his phone back to his desk. He picked back up his pencil and glanced over the sketch of Will. It wasn’t often that Hannibal found himself mixing his life in Lithuania and his life in the present together, but there was something about Will that felt like the man had always been there and it was odd to try to see his life without Will in it. Even his childhood suddenly had Will plastered through it and this one place, this one little spot that Hannibal, under a child’s delusion, had thought was strictly his and no one else ever knew about, now housed Will. </p><p>As an eleven year old boy, unable to speak a word and trapped back in his family home where his parents' screams still echoed down the halls daily, he would challenge the gods by sneaking out of the orphanage at night to run to a church. It was not for any religious purposes, the thought of God abandoned in much the same way that God had abandoned him. He would climb up into one of the big, wide window sills of an old church and nestle into it, overly concerned with not being seen. </p><p>He had stumbled onto that secret place after he had climbed over the balcony wall of his family home and let himself down onto the street, looking for a hideaway where he could peacefully contemplate his new found tidbits of life lessons without having to be tormented by the older children of the newly formed orphanage. The window sill had been hidden between the branches of a stately oak tree and climbing into it had been excruciatingly easy.</p><p>His home had been reduced to a tight living quarters with many other children. He shared a bedroom with two other boys and his eagerness to create an island of space for strictly himself had gotten the better of him. The dark, Lithuanian evenings had given him the cloak to sneak away in. </p><p>That very first time he had thought he would find quiet solitude to be alone with his life lessons one-on-one, but he found himself looking through the window, frightened of being found at a light ticking of wood against something. </p><p>The room beyond the panes of glass was brightly lit and to his amazement there was a full orchestra sitting in folding chairs and looking to the conductor who had asked for their undivided attention. </p><p>Hannibal could remember the ache in his lungs as he held his breath, unable to believe his eyes or ears as the sounds of strings, brass and winds embraced him. They couldn’t see him, or at least if they did, no one gave him a moment of notice, so he pushed himself to the side of the window and sat transfixed as the conductor, with the help of his baton that had tapped against his music stand, created the music that Hannibal had come to love so dearly. </p><p>Simonetta Lecter had always treated herself to the most beautiful Mendelssohn, Brahms or Tchaikovsky after her children were finally in bed, not knowing that Hannibal would lay his ear against the music room’s door to not miss a single note. </p><p>Hannibal wasn’t sure he had ever experienced a more spiritual moment than the evenings he spent on that sill. Even if halted by the perfectionism of the conductor who in turn would explain perfection to the musicians, Hannibal could lose himself in the beauty of the music. </p><p>It spoke to him, not in words, but in wavelengths which were much more needed than words. He heard words every day, words of all shapes and sizes. His words had been effectively stolen from him, but music could give him a voice and could lift and expand him. He found himself there, in that window sill of a church of a God that had long since forgotten him. He was no longer concerned with day to day life lessons and he felt a curious freedom that was so familiar and had been lost to him. </p><p>Hannibal had stumbled upon one of the purest kinds of aesthetics. He had forgotten about the sill, about hiding his body, even his body itself stepped into the music. Listening, understanding, moving while being moved. </p><p>Boundaries that he had so wanted to escape were forgotten. There weren’t any life lessons he had to learn there, not in the presence of something that did not appear to be of this world. It was just spiritual, just as spiritual as the funny little way he had held his breath to not miss a note. </p><p>Now that was where Will sat. He sat in that church window sill with feet perched on a tree branch, staring through the glass to an unseen and unheard orchestra, the light dancing off of his curls and giving him the appearance of a celestial being. </p><p>Will would have been just as silent as Hannibal was. Not mute by any means other than by choice to better understand the young boy who had somehow escaped a massacre and found his voice stolen from him. </p><p>A phone ringing brought Hannibal out of his mind and he glanced at the phone, noting the way that the hours had ticked by and how his wine glass was empty. Will’s name lit up the screen and Hannibal answered it dutifully. </p><p>Before he could say a word, there was a fit of unnatural sobs as if the person on the other side of the line couldn’t catch their breath. Distress rang purely through the words. </p><p>“I just killed him!” </p><p>“You what?” Hannibal asked all other words lost to him. He had never heard Will’s voice so broken before. Not even when Will had come over after working on the Achilles Mangler case and had slept in Hannibal’s bed. This was another level altogether. More words burst from Will, but they were inaudible, muffled, and breathless. “I need you to calm down, Will,” Hannibal instructed sternly. “What happened? What do you mean you just killed him? Who?” </p><p>“He was going to kill me. He-he had the axe and-” Will broke off with another choked sob. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Hannibal demanded, getting to his feet as nervous energy raced through him and he desperately wished he could do something more than pace his study. Wished he could strangle Jack for making Will work in these conditions. Wished he had access to another phone so he could call and demand that Jack find Will and help him. </p><p>“He’s dead. He’s in the closet.” Will gasped for air, but it did nothing to stop the wrecked sobs that broke up every word. </p><p>“He’s dead in the closet?” </p><p>“M-My gun.” </p><p>“You shot him?”</p><p>“I did.” </p><p>Hannibal blinked at the words, finally understanding why Will was so worked up. </p><p>
  <em>I’ve never shot anyone. </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t the fact that Will had killed someone. Will wasn’t afraid of death or exercising his powers of death. Will had been dealing out the cards of death since he was a child. This was because of the method of how the life was taken and Hannibal could only guess the reasons behind that. Maybe a gun was too impartial. Maybe a gun ruined the chance for art to be made. Maybe a gun was too quick for Will to enjoy the death that came from his hand. Whatever the reason, it had left Will in tatters. </p><p>
  <em>My anxiety comes from pulling the trigger.</em>
</p><p>“Will, are you alright?” Hannibal pushed once more, a hand running through his hair and messing it up as his feet continued to propel him across his study from one wall to the other, heart pounding in his chest. </p><p>“We-We cleared the house. I swear we cleared it. Fuck!” </p><p>“I need you to calm down and stay with me. Are you alright?” </p><p>“I-” There was another sharp inhale and a loud whimper. “I don’t know.” </p><p>“Ok.” Hannibal nodded with a deep breath. “Is Beverly there with you?” </p><p>“I don’t know. I just-I just shot. I don’t know.” There were full-on tears now and Hannibal felt something twist painfully in his chest. He lowered his phone and put Will on speaker before finding Jack’s name and texting him. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Hush,” Hannibal instructed as his fingers worked as quickly as he could make them. “I need you to stay calm.” </p><p>“Ok. I’m calm.” </p><p>He was anything but calm. He was in shock if he was anything. Hannibal had seen it a million times in the emergency room. Patients sobbing hysterically over something and unable to stop until a chemical made them stop. This was most likely psychological shock and Will would be better once he was removed from wherever he was located, but the possibility of Will being hurt still stood. </p><p>There was a deep breath from Will and a muttered, “Oh my god.” Will inhaled sharply and there was a silence from Will holding his breath. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” </p><p>“Will, focus on your breathing for me,” Hannibal instructed, waiting for his text to be answered on pins and needles. “I need you to inhale for four seconds, hold it for seven and exhale for eight. Can you do that for me?” </p><p>“Yes. Um... yeah.” </p><p>Hannibal stared at his screen, waiting for anything to come from Jack, but after another moment of no response, Hannibal went to previously received calls and scrolled through them to an unknown number to text as well. </p><p>“Oh my god.” </p><p>“Breathe Will,” Hannibal directed in a firm but gentle voice as his fingers forwarded the same message to the number. “Just like I told you.” There was a wavering hum from Will and a sharp inhale. Hannibal watched as the three dancing dots appeared on his screen and a relief flooded through him that Beverly had seen his message. “When did this happen, Will?” </p><p>“Just now. I immediately called you.” The words were fast, nearly all jumbled into one large word as they spilled from the man now. “I ran because I was trying to get- he made me go back in the bedroom after-after hitting- There’s so much blood, Hannibal.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’ve called ERT. I’ll find him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Bev</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he turned off the speaker and placed the phone back to his ear, too far invested in Will to try to take into consideration that Beverly didn't know where Will had been. “Will, are you injured?” he tried once more, but more babbling was the only answer that he got. </p><p>“He told me that if I-I didn’t do what he said he was going to-going to-he was going to hurt me. He had an axe and I just listened. I just listen-I didn’t know what else to do.” </p><p>“Beverly is coming to get you, alright? But if you’re injured we need to get you help. Where is the blood coming from, Will?” </p><p>“I didn’t know what else to do,” Will repeated once more. “He-he-”</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal interrupted voice stern once more. “Where is the blood coming from?” </p><p>“Under the door of the closet!” Will shot back in a shout before there was a strained whimper. </p><p>“Are you injured?” </p><p>“There’s someone here.” The words had dropped down to a harsh whisper. </p><p>“Beverly is there, Will. It’s just Beverley,” Hannibal assured as calmly as he could. “Are you injured?” </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“Where?” </p><p>“It was the nurse. You were right. You were right.” </p><p>Hannibal blinked and did his best to keep his anger at bay. Will didn’t need anger right now, but his avoidance of Hannibal’s pressing questions was beyond frustrating. “I don’t care who it was, Will. You need to apply pressure to whatever the axe did to you. I need you coming home on a plane, not in a body bag. Do you understand me?” </p><p>“I’m upstairs!” Will's voice called, loud in the receiver and Hannibal winced. “It’s Bev.” </p><p>“Good.” Hannibal found his way back to his desk and leaned against it. “Give her the phone, Will.” </p><p>“But I-” </p><p>“Give Beverly the phone Will,” Hannibal instructed once more and there was an immediate shuffling across the line. “Beverly, what happened?” </p><p>“I have ERT on the way,” her rushed voice said in answer. “He’s in shock and there are deep lacerations to his arms and one of his legs. I’m trying to apply pressure to the worst one.” Her focus immediately changed and Hannibal could only listen. “Will, hold this here. Where is the man?” </p><p>“Closet,” Hannibal answered for Will, who he could still hear rasping for air in the background. There was more shuffling. </p><p>“Shit,” was hissed out from Beverly. “I told you he could hold his own, right?” </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes flickered around the room of his study and he licked his lips, heart pounding madly in his chest. “Yes,” he answered back softly. </p><p>“Medical is here,” Beverly informed Hannibal before her attention went back to Will. “Keep holding pressure to that, Will.” </p><p>“Is he going to be alright?” Hannibal asked, mouth dry and voice thick. </p><p>“I told you he’d come home in one piece, didn’t I?” </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I am in love with him. His dark side. His changing tides. His bedroom eyes. The way he looks at me. He is everything I see and I am in love with him.”<br/>― N. R. Hart</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello guys. I wasn't going to post this until later in the week, but what the fuck? It's Valentine's Day. Might as well give you guys a little something. I worked super hard on this chapter and it is so much longer than chapters I normally write so I hope you guys all enjoy this update. Please let me know what you guys think.<br/>Also, I have been listening to this song non stop for the entirety of writing this chapter. Decode (Piano &amp; String Version) - Paramore - by Sam Yung. Give it a listen if you want to know the mood I was in hen I wrote this. Here's the link. </p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=728gG0Q6-a4</p><p> </p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p><p>Happy Valentine's Day!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<hr/><p>The knock had come at his door before the time that Hannibal normally rose from bed. It was still dark out and the chill of the night stuck to the hardwood floors of his house. He had simply thought it another rude census taker and had the notion of how lovely it would be to relive the meal of liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. </p><p>Instead, he was now standing in his kitchen, wrapped in his robe, making coffee for a rather quiet fiber analysis. Hannibal filled the first glass with tired movements. </p><p>“Although I may be, is it safe to assume that you’re not sleepwalking now?” Hannibal asked into the silent kitchen as he glanced up from his work.</p><p>There was a small huff of breath and Beverly looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry it’s so early.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “I just thought that you would want news as soon as my plane landed and I didn’t want to try to sleep yet. Not with what’s swirling around my head at the moment.”  </p><p>“Never apologize for coming to me,” Hannibal instructed, filling up his own cup of steaming coffee to try to bring something more alive into his bloodstream. “Office hours are for patients, which you are not. My kitchen is always open to friends.” Hannibal added a generous amount of sugar to each glass before stirring up one and passing it over to Beverly who slowly took it. She stirred the contents absently as if she had forgotten that Hannibal had already completed that task for her. Hannibal added some cream to his cup before taking a rather large sip with heavy-lidded, half-closed eyes. “Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty.” </p><p>Beverly’s dark eyes flickered up from her untouched drink before returning to the depths of the dark liquid. She lifted the cup to her lips but stopped. “I wasn’t forced to do anything,” she muttered. “And if you’re trying to make this conversation some roundabout thing about Will, he wasn’t forced back out into the field either.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t say forced,” Hannibal corrected carefully. </p><p>“It’s our job.” </p><p>“Manipulated would be the word I’d choose. At least in Will’s case.” Hannibal gave a small sigh. “I wasn’t trying to make this about him.” </p><p>“That’s the whole reason I’m here,” Beverly stated with a shrug, finally taking a drink of her coffee. “And I know I can handle the things I see, but Will... I’m just as worried about him as you are.” </p><p>“Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.” </p><p>Beverly gave a small laugh and shook her head. “So I can’t handle it?” </p><p>“I can not speak for you, Beverly,” Hannibal corrected. “But your experience may have overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control. You’re in my kitchen at an ungodly hour and it is not just because you have brought me news of Will.” </p><p>“I’m not crazy,” she whispered. “And I’ve seen worse things than what Will did to that nurse.” </p><p>“I would argue that you’re simply suffering from good, old fashioned post-traumatic stress. Wouldn’t you?” </p><p>Beverly finished off her cup and set it aside on the counter, hands taking the edge so she could lean up against it. “You’re the doctor here, not me.” She gave Hannibal a small smile, but it quickly fell away, not holding any of its normal radiance. “But this really is just my job, and I really can handle it. I’ve been handling it for years. What I don’t think I’m handling is seeing what my best friend was capable of doing.” </p><p>“He’s entered into a devil’s bargain with Jack Crawford. It takes a toll.” </p><p>Beverly shook her head in disagreement. “Jack isn’t the devil.” </p><p>“When it comes to how far he’s willing to push your team to get what he wants, he’s certainly no saint.” </p><p>Beverly rubbed at her eyes in silence for a moment, visible tiredness clinging to her body as she clutched to the counter to keep herself upright. “He just wants to save people. We all want to save people. That’s why we do this work. Someone has to.” </p><p>“Sit,” Hannibal instructed, and confused dark eyes met his. “I’ll make us some breakfast. How do you like your eggs?” </p><p>“Sunnyside up.” Beverly took a seat in one of the bar stools at the counter as Hannibal refilled her glass with coffee. He placed it in front of her with a small smile and went about his kitchen to find a pan. “He’s doing better, by the way.” </p><p>“I’m glad to hear it.” Hannibal added a small pad of butter to the pan and watched for a moment as it melted. When nothing more was said from Beverly, he looked up to find the woman watching him carefully. Her face was blank, but there was something in the way that she held her jaw that told Hannibal more than her eyes would. “What is it that you’re not saying?” </p><p>“You don’t have to pretend with me, Doctor Lecter,” Beverly replied in a monotone voice. “I know you care about him. You can stop playing like you don’t.” </p><p>Hannibal exhaled deeply through his nose and gave a nod as he cracked two eggs into the pan before grinding salt and fresh pepper over them. “Better doesn’t tell me how he is,” Hannibal finally said as he fetched a plate from the cupboard. </p><p>Beverly wore the hint of a warm smile when Hannibal once more met her gaze. “He has a shit ton of stitches and had to have a few blood transfusions, but he’s stable. They’re monitoring him to make sure all his hemoglobin levels are steady before they release him. Give him a day or two and he should be back.” </p><p>“And how is his nosocomephobia?” </p><p>“The last I saw of him, he was so hyped up on drugs I doubt he knew where he was.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Hannibal muttered as he pulled the pan from the heat and let the two eggs slide onto the plate before he located a fork and passed the plate over to Beverly who took it with a grateful smile. “Jack wouldn’t answer his phone and I was...” Hannibal trailed off and made himself busy by adding more butter to the pan to crack two more eggs into it. </p><p>“I’m just as grateful that you messaged me.” Beverly cut into her egg, the yoke running across her plate. “I wouldn’t have had a clue.” </p><p>“How did you two get separated?” </p><p>Beverly paused and lowered her forkful back to her plate, eyes dropping. “We were supposed to clear each of the houses that had been under surveillance. We had finished clearing that one and Price needed help with something. I went to go assist and Will went back in. He told me later that he thought he saw something upstairs and I don't have any clue why he went back alone. We were in Central City, which has the highest crime rate in New Orleans.” Beverly stirred at the broken yoke on her plate, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze, though his physical attention was on his cooking. “Gunshots are normal there and I didn’t think anything of it when his gun went off. None of us did. It wasn’t until I got your text that I noticed he wasn’t there.” </p><p>“How did you not notice?” Nothing was accusing in Hannibal’s voice as his own sunnyside eggs were added to his plate. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach anything at the moment though. The smell alone was enough to make his stomach want to turn. </p><p>“Will doesn’t talk when he works unless he’s being spoken to. He could be invisible if he wants to.” Beverly gave a small shrug. “I know I’m his best friend and I sound like a jerk, but sometimes I forget he’s there, he’s so inconspicuous.” </p><p>Hannibal thought over the words and found them difficult to relate to. That was not at all the Will that he knew. The Will that he knew couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than a few seconds unless something was making him unable to speak. He spoke about everything at once and nothing at all and maybe it was because there was finally someone there to listen. </p><p>“You said that you didn’t want to sleep,” Hannibal carefully pushed, taking a bite of his eggs and doing his best to ignore the way his body fought him. Even if he didn’t want to eat, he still needed to and this was a mind over matter situation. There was nothing wrong with him other than a staggering amount of worry that he couldn’t shake; worry that he wouldn’t be able to shake until he saw Will back safe in his environment. “What was it that Will did that brought you to my home?” </p><p>“I didn’t stalk you or anything. Jack gave me your address,” Beverly quickly defended before finally taking a bite of her food. She chased it down with a gulp of coffee before speaking again. Hannibal let out a small laugh and a nod at the words. “That man’s face was minced meat. It looked like he had bit down on a shotgun. There was nothing left of his face.” Beverly ran a hand through her hair and shook it out before once more looking up to meet Hannibal’s face. “Will didn’t have to shoot him that many times. A single bullet would have dropped the man.” </p><p>“Muscle memory,” Hannibal offered out. </p><p>“No.” Beverly shook her head. “Emptying a single magazine is muscle memory. He reloaded. That’s overkill.” </p><p>“He was frightened. When you saw him you said he was in shock. Everything he was saying to me was incoherent at best. It was self-defense.” </p><p>“He was there when his dad died, you know,” Beverly whispered. “He says all the time that his father’s death was his fault and I never believed him.” </p><p>“Until now?” Hannibal asked back cautiously, fork now fully set aside and plate pushed away. He had to tread carefully. If he couldn’t rectify this with simple words, he would have to take action. Actions that could be just as dangerous as just letting Beverly’s mind wander over some odd idea and Beverly wouldn’t let it drop. That wasn’t how she was made to function. There was a reason she worked in the field she did. Once she had an idea, she had to poke at it until she had explored all of its edges and gotten all of the possible answers and outcomes. “Why are you questioning it now?” </p><p>“The official report says that he slipped on the stairs and fell down them. It was snowing and those stairs were always icy according to everyone that the news interviewed. But if Will is capable of having enough wherewithal to load another twelve rounds into a dead man, then maybe he pushed his dad down the stairs. Hell, I probably would have too if I grew up with a dad like that.” Beverly shook her head and waved her hand. “Forget it. I’m overreacting.” </p><p>“I have come to notice that Will often will take the blame for many things that are out of his control and in no way his fault.” Hannibal’s fingers tapped on the counter for a moment. “I don’t think he realizes he does this.” </p><p>“Why would he take responsibility for something he didn’t do?”</p><p>“Self-blaming isn’t about taking responsibility at all,” Hannibal replied simply. “It’s an unconscious way to avoid facing the reality of the situations one can find themselves in.” Beverly’s head tipped to the side curiously. “By taking the blame, Will neatly side-steps any further conversation or analysis of what has happened. It could also be a form of self-abuse. He pushes himself into so much guilt and shame that he’s paralyzed, unable to grow and change.” </p><p>“So you think that he blames himself for his father’s death because he doesn't want to face the trauma that comes from losing a loved one? Even if that loved one was shit?” Beverly once more finished off her glass of coffee and pushed her finished plate away from her. </p><p>“Precisely.” Hannibal went about gathering the dishes and added them to the sink, turning on the water to let it warm up. “The death of an abusive parent is still grieved after, but it’s a different type of grieving. Have you ever lost anyone close to you Beverly?” </p><p>“My grandmother,” Beverly answered with furrowed brows. </p><p>“And when she died what did you think about?” </p><p>“All of the good times I had with her.” Beverly shrugged. </p><p>Hannibal nodded, adding soap to the filled sink before grabbing one of the plates and sinking it into the water to begin washing it. “Normal families miss what they had with the deceased. For a survivor, the death of their abuser is a final loss of hope that there will ever be the creation of happy memories. Abusive families miss what they never had. Also, for many people, the death of their abusive parent creates an external dilemma about how they will be perceived by the outside world if they choose not to care about the deceased. How was Will supposed to pretend that his father was a good person when Will knew that he wasn't?”</p><p>“Will never mentioned any of that,” Beverly muttered, looking down at the counter with a deep breath. “Or maybe I just didn’t listen well enough. He dropped off the face of the earth after that. I didn’t hear from him for another four or five years until he just popped up one day.” Beverly gave a light laugh. “He told me that he ran away from his foster home the moment he graduated high school.” </p><p>“He went into foster care?” Hannibal asked back curiously as he dried the pan and went to put it away. He had been wondering what had happened to the boy after his father had passed, but Hannibal had figured that someone in his extended family had scooped him up until Will could take care of himself. </p><p>“He kept being bounced around from home to home until...” Beverly trailed off, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “How old was he? I think he was sixteen when he graduated high school and his dad died when he was thirteen. He must have had a dozen foster families in those three years. He said he was only with some of them for a month before he was passed along.” </p><p>“I’m sure that did nothing to help his self-image,” Hannibal muttered. “So much rejection at such a young age would have lasting effects.” </p><p>“Well, he made it out.” Beverly got to her feet with a deep breath. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” </p>
<hr/><p>A peculiar scent hung in the air of Hannibal’s waiting room and he paused to take it in. Acidic and metallic mixed with the under notes of warm spice with hints of vanilla and citrus. Hannibal glanced at the door to his office and stared at the flickering light that came from the crack under the door. </p><p>Hannibal cautiously stepped to the office door and twisted the handle to find it unlocked even though he consciously locked it every day before he returned home. With a deep breath and a careful note that his scalpel had been left on his desk in case he needed it, he pushed the door open. </p><p>The lights were off, but the fireplace in the back of the room behind his desk was alive, casting twirling shadows across the walls. His desk chair was occupied with a slouched body that was slowly twisting back and forth from a single foot guiding the movements of a chair. The body was shadowed, but at a swivel back towards the fire Hannibal could finally see a halo of coffee and cinnamon curls. </p><p>The idea of the body in that chair stole Hannibal’s breath and the heat from his skin. The blood rushed to his brain, waking it up though he had already thought himself awake. His smile grew of its own accord and he quickly wiped it away, unable to let the man see what he had ignited in Hannibal. </p><p>“What are you doing here Will?” Hannibal asked into the icy warmth of the room, pulling his coat from his shoulders and doing his best not to jump at the man he had been fretting over for the better part of that week. The coat was rested across his desk and he folded his arms, waiting for an answer. </p><p>“I checked myself out of the hospital,” Will's voice answered, soft and gravely. Hoarse as if he had been crying or screaming. </p><p>“Maybe you should check yourself back in.” Hannibal moved closer to the desk as the chair came to a stop in its movements and shining eyes met him. “Beverly said that they were still waiting for your-” </p><p>“Right,” Will whispered, a fake smile pulling at his lips. He pushed himself from the chair and to his feet, movements unsteady. A hand caught himself on the desktop and in the dim light from the fireplace Hannibal could see bandaging around Will’s right wrist. “How silly of me to think that you would want to see me after that.” The words were devastated and uttered so softly they were nearly lost under the crackle of the fire. “I don’t blame you.” Will limped his way around the desk and Hannibal closed his eyes as a lump filled his throat. “I wouldn’t want to see me either.” </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal whispered, forcing his eyes to open. He stepped around the desk that Will was using for balance and stood in the empath’s way, taking in the length of Will’s body. His other arm was held against his chest in a sling, bandaging sneaking its way out of the sleeve of the ratty and faded t-shirt Will wore. His gym shorts showed more bandaging down both of his legs, his left much worse than his right, his right supporting his weight. His skin was ghostly pale and a light sheen of sweat covered his face. “I just...” Hannibal reached out a hand towards the man, but stopped, unsure if he would just be hurting Will more if he touched. </p><p>“Just?” Will asked back, hip resting against the desk with a tired exhale. </p><p>“I was so worried about you,” Hannibal answered, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he allowed the truth to leave him. There were times to be closed off and composed and this simply wasn’t that time. That wasn’t what Hannibal wanted and it certainly wasn’t what Will needed. “My compassion for you is inconvenient, Will.” </p><p>“That’s comforting,” Will laughed out before he hissed, his free hand snatching up the shoulder that was in the sling with a grimace. Light yellow discoloration stuck out from under some of the bandaging on his wrist and Hannibal frowned at the amount of care that had been taken with Will. </p><p>“I was up the rest of the night after you called. I couldn’t sleep.” </p><p>Will chewed on his tongue for a moment, blue eyes glancing around the dim room. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world rather ungracefully.” </p><p>“I got here on my own,” Hannibal corrected, calling those glossy blue eyes back to him. “But I appreciate the company.” Hannibal stepped closer, catching the scent of a fevered sweetness over the man that mixed unkindly with the other notes that Hannibal had noticed earlier. Will’s lips turned up in a smile, but they swiftly dropped, his gaze falling to the floor with a small laugh as he nodded. </p><p>“It’s not often I get to hear such sentiments from you. I hope I can remember this when my fever breaks.”  </p><p>“May I?” </p><p>Hannibal once more raised his hand and Will nodded in permission, eyes sliding shut as Hannibal’s hands caressed his cheeks. They were flushed with heat. Hannibal’s hand moved to Will’s forehead, dipping under the man’s curls, and only found the same fire across Will’s skin. </p><p>“None of your injuries were infected, were they?” Hannibal asked softly, stepping only closer to Will who, once Hannibal was close enough, fell into Hannibal’s body for support. Hannibal let the man press into him, holding Will’s weight upright as Will hid his face in Hannibal’s neck. </p><p>“No, they weren’t,” Will answered back in a whisper, his free hand snagging itself up in the fabric of Hannibal’s suit coat. </p><p>Hannibal glanced down at the steadying movement from the man and a hand caressed the back of Will’s head. “It’s probably a psychogenic fever.”</p><p>“I tried taking some aspirin, but it hasn’t done much to help.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t expect it to,” Hannibal muttered, wanting nothing more than to pull Will closer, but hesitancy held him back. “Psychogenic fevers aren’t affected by anti-inflammatory drugs. It has more to do with handling the stress that caused the fever.” </p><p>“That’s just my luck, isn’t it?” Will huffed out, breath smoldering against Hannibal’s neck. Will gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I’m quite there yet, Doctor Lecter.”</p><p>“We can discuss it when you are more comfortable,” Hannibal agreed. “We can discuss all of it when you’re feeling better.” </p><p>“We do have quite a bit to work out,” Will agreed reluctantly. He sighed and straightened up, pulling from Hannibal’s grip. “Do you think a taxi would take me home from here?” A pained smile pulled at Will’s lips. His free hand ran through his curls and he sighed. “Would you mind me sitting in your waiting room until Bev picks me up?” </p><p>“Take a cab to my house Will,” Hannibal instructed. Will shook his head in disagreement. </p><p>“I’ll just call Bev. It’s ok.” </p><p>“Will, I insist.” Hannibal pulled his keys from his pocket and began working one from his key ring. “Here is the key, though with how my office was open, I doubt you would need one to get into my house.” </p><p>“You need to get a security system,” Will pushed once more, voice soft as he slowly took the key from Hannibal’s outheld hand. “I didn’t learn to pick locks for the FBI.” </p><p>Hannibal thought over the words for a moment before giving a small nod. It wouldn’t hurt, that was for sure. Hannibal would put it on his list of things to accomplish, but at the moment Will was far more important than a few cameras around his home. </p><p>“I want you to eat something and shower. You’re still covered in iodine,” Hannibal instructed. “I have an extensive first aid kit in my bathroom. And then I want you to sleep. My last appointment today is...” Hannibal lifted his wrist and pulled on his sleeve to check his watch with a small nod. “About three this afternoon. I will be home around half-past four.” </p><p>“No one’s watching my dogs. I was optimistically optimistic that I would be home yesterday and my neighbor went out of town. I need-” </p><p>“I will take care of that,” Hannibal offered quickly and Will stared at him with large blank eyes. </p><p>“I can’t ask you to-”</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal said a bit more sternly, effectively silencing Will who licked his lips and looked away from Hannibal. “I will take care of everything. Go to my place and do as I said. Doctor’s orders.” </p><p>“Thank you, Hannibal,” Will whispered, eyes going down to the key in his hand that his fingers were playing with. </p><p>“I have some sausage, beans, and broccoli rabe soup in the fridge. I want you to eat that. It will help with your iron levels.” </p><p>“Sausage?” Will asked, a stricter paleness coming to his face. “I don’t think I can stomach that right-”</p><p>“I do cook with other things, Will,” Hannibal assured, a hand brushing sweat-damp hair from Will’s face. “It’s just sausage.” </p><p>“Alright,” Will whispered with a nod. “And you’ll be home soon?” </p><p>Home. It was startling how such a small, four-letter word could hold so much weight to it. It wasn’t just a building born of an architect's imagination with life breathed into it until it was stable upon the foundation that housed it. Home was more of a kaleidoscope of memories than sheetrock and drywall. There was a song in the walls that could be heard in quiet moments, a place where the lungs chose to fill a little deeper and the heart would beat a little steadier, a place where it was more heaven than hell. A safety to protect against the storm that waited just outside the doors. Someplace shared with someone who would give those memories their kaleidoscope effect and press the songs into the framework. Something that Hannibal didn’t have. Something that he had never quite had. </p><p>“Soon,” Hannibal agreed after a moment of contemplative silence over if he should have corrected the word, the same word that he had used on the phone several days prior. He couldn’t scold the man for the same slip up that he had made, even if the strength of the world held much more implications to it than what Hannibal had time to focus on. </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal stopped in front of his house and climbed from his car. The front door had been left unlocked, but he had expected as much. He stepped into the quiet house, finding a tattered pair of tennis shoes by the front door, covered in the same green paint that had decorated the walls in Will’s home and he grimaced at the idea that that was the color that Will had picked out. </p><p>Hannibal closed the door behind him and made his way to the kitchen, stopping at a bowl and spoon left beside the sink on the counter. With a breath, reminding himself that it was far more important that Will eat something than clean his dishes, Hannibal made quick work of washing the items before he made his way upstairs and towards his room. </p><p>He stepped inside quietly and his eyes rested on the form in his bed. Hannibal stepped closer to the side, carefully looking over Will who was fast asleep, one arm clutching Hannibal’s pillow to his chest. His other arm was dutifully wrapped in its sling and being supported with another pillow. Deep purple bruising littered Will’s bare chest and down his delicate torso as well as peeking out from under his new bandaging, only stopped by the blanket that fell about his hips, though Hannibal was certain that the bruising continued downwards. </p><p>Hannibal sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, a hand reaching out to gently press to Will’s still flushed cheeks. He still had a fever, but there wasn’t truly much that Hannibal could do to help despite the fact that he wished he could. Other than keeping Will hydrated, he didn’t have a say in what Will’s body decided to do to him. </p><p>There was a deep inhale and a whimper from Will who shifted on the bed, leaning into Hannibal’s fingers. </p><p>“Doctor?” he asked in a gravelly, sleep-filled voice, though his eyes stayed shut. </p><p>“Shhh,” Hannibal hushed, running his fingers through Will’s hair, unable to stop himself. “I was coming to check on you before heading out to check on your dogs.” </p><p>“Stay.” </p><p>“I promise I will be back soon. In the meantime, I want you to continue resting." Hannibal’s fingers carefully stroked over Will’s cheeks and Will gave a small nod with a deep exhale. He flinched, hand tangling itself into the fabric of Hannibal’s pillow, breath sharp and shallow. “I’ll have something for you to eat when you wake as well.” </p><p>“This is more than a doctor and patient relationship, Doctor,” Will pointed out, eyes finally flickering open. The ice was vacant of any light as if Will were right on the border of life and death. Hannibal tipped his head to the side, fingers still absently stroking over Will’s face. “Not even past lovers would have done this much for me.” </p><p>“What?” Hannibal asked back innocently. “Looking after your dogs is not a chore, dear boy.” </p><p>“But taking care of me is.” Will’s eyes dropped closed again and Hannibal could see how hard the man was fighting the sleep that still tugged on his body. “You don’t have to do half of the things that you do for me.” </p><p>“Are we having this conversation now, Will?” Hannibal’s brows rose in question and he watched as Will’s face twisted into one of dislike. He forced his eyes open once more, though they were still just as blank and distant as they met Hannibal. Will gave a nod and Hannibal sighed, pulling back his hand. “Has it occurred to you that I enjoy taking care of you?” </p><p>Will scoffed, but it swiftly turned into a groan and he only pulled Hannibal’s pillow closer against his body. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. </p><p>“Were you on any pain killers?” Hannibal asked softly. “That might help you rest more comfortably.” </p><p>“I’m sure I was, but all of it is pretty hazy,” Will answered. “I honestly don’t remember the flight home, but I got here somehow, so...” Will trailed off and Hannibal stared at him for a moment as he tried to take in the words. </p><p>“You don’t remember getting on the plane?” </p><p>“The last thing I remember was leaving the hospital and then I was in your office.” </p><p>“You’re still experiencing time loss,” Hannibal muttered out, a hand running through his hair as he thought. “I’m going to get you an appointment set up with a neurosurgeon first thing in the morning. I will reschedule my appointments and come with you.” </p><p>“Hannibal I-” </p><p>“This is nonnegotiable, Will.” </p><p>“But even you said that what I was experiencing is a mental illness, not-” </p><p>“A doctor always checks all possible avenues,” Hannibal cut in once more. “I will take care of all of the arrangements. For now, I want you to sleep. Am I making myself clear?” </p><p>Will didn’t answer though. He simply glared as if Hannibal were overstepping into an area that he wasn’t allowed to enter, but for the first time since protecting his aunt from a rather grotesque butcher, Hannibal felt the need to shelter something. Will was worth protecting despite all of the damage that could come with the action, though Hannibal wasn’t entirely sure he was mentally ready enough to come to terms with all of what that meant. </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal pulled into Will’s drive and looked over the snowy farmhouse that sat alone in a field. No lights were on and so the house sat beached instead of afloat. Fresh snow had fallen, though the markings of the dogs through the snow weren’t covered up. </p><p>Hannibal climbed from the car and made his way to the porch, the dogs barking from the other side of the front door. With the key that Will had given him, Hannibal unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The dogs immediately rushed about his ankles, some of them sniffing at the legs of his slacks and others already bounding through the snow. </p><p>Hannibal pushed his way through the pack and into the still rather crowded front room. Half packed boxes still littered armchairs and the floor, but more things seemed to have found a home than what had been there the last time Hannibal had stepped foot into the house. </p><p>In the kitchen, Hannibal located the food for the dogs and diligently filled each dish that sat empty, and then refilled the water bowls before he made his way back into the front of the house. Outside the window, he could see the dogs bounding through the snow, occupied with their fun rather than with Hannibal. </p><p>He found himself in front of the piano and reached out, playing several notes across it. The twang was gone as was the disagreeable out of tuneness that had been there previously. At least there was something good in this house, the green paint on the walls was absolutely not one of them. </p><p>He licked at his lips and moved on in the room towards the dresser that had held his interest so firmly the first time he had stepped inside. He pulled at the top drawer and revealed neatly kept rows of white socks and a stack of white undershirts. Hannibal gathered up some clothes for Will and set them in a chair by the door to bring home with him.</p><p>Maybe Will did have a bit more organization to his chaotic home than Hannibal had initially thought, but that didn’t stop the odd implications of why Will had designated the main floor’s sitting room as his bedroom in the first place. </p><p>
  <em> I want to be aware at all times who is showing up outside of my house. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal blinked several times at the words and made his way for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. What he found was a hall bath and two bedrooms, one that was stuffed full of more boxes and Hannibal had the sneaking suspicion that Will clung to everything he owned almost like a hoarder. </p><p>He wasn’t a hoarder by any means of the word, but the sentiment still held true. It held a purpose. Maybe it would someday be used again. Or maybe there was a memory tied to it and Will was afraid that if he lost the item then maybe the memory would go with it. It was also a possibility that since Will had grown up with close to nothing that the idea of throwing anything away was atrocious. He could see Will much more willing to fix something than get a new one, even if he had the means to afford the item now. Years and years of making do with what one had and never asking for more would have shaped Will just as profoundly as taking that first life had. </p><p>In the next bedroom, which was absolutely bare and undoubtedly the master, Hannibal found a window that was large enough that Will had been able to climb out of it and as Hannibal stepped his way around the room, he had a clear view of the road and driveway as well as the dogs who were still rolling about in the snow. </p><p>
  <em> You don't have a security system. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You need to get a security system </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I want to be aware at all times who is showing up outside of my house. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal frowned as the words ran through his mind several more times. Will was his own security system. Will would never trust anything other than himself for his own protection, which was probably why he had been uncomfortable or upset with the idea of Hannibal obtaining an appointment on his behalf. </p><p>Hannibal left the room and made his way back down the stairs to find several of the dogs munching away in the kitchen. His steps echoed through the house until he found himself at Will’s bed. His hand reached out and he paused for a moment. Maybe this was going a bit too far. Hannibal had already broken the barrier of personal space by exploring the rest of the house, but his curiosity pulled heavily on him and he finally snuck a hand under one of Will’s pillows. </p><p>His fingers touched something hard and cold and when he pulled it free he was met with a handgun. Though Hannibal preferred not to use such items, he had become familiar with them in his youth. His father was an avid hunter and had taught Hannibal as such. Hannibal had kept up on his knowledge enough to make sure that he knew the ends and outs and could hold his own if he needed to use the weapon, but he would always feel more comfortable with a blade and a bullet. </p><p>His thumb hit the release and the magazine fell into his open palm. It was fully loaded with cartridges that shone back at him in the setting sun. With a firm grip, the magazine was placed home in the mag well and Hannibal slid the gun back under the pillow. </p><p>Hannibal checked the kitchen and upon finding that there were seven furry bodies happily eating and the house was at a decent temperature for the night, he fetched Will’s clothes and locked up the house, making his way back to his car. </p><p>Once safe in the leather seat of his Bentley, he pulled his phone from his pocket and found, for the second time since he had met Will, a number that he had acquired long ago and had not called since their last meeting at a convention. </p><p>He placed the phone to his ear and waited through several dial tones as he started up his car before the line finally connected. </p><p>“Doctor Lecter,” the voice on the other side answered in warm politeness. “I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about me. I thought we were supposed to go to the conference in New York together.” </p><p>“I’m sorry Donald,” Hannibal apologized with the same faux politeness that had always been between the two of them. It wasn’t that they weren’t friendly, they just weren’t friends. They had been in school together for a time, both having taken different routes in their discoveries of mental ailments. “I had a rather unsightly emergency that weekend that I had to take care of.” </p><p>“What can I do for you? Unfortunately, I was just about to leave the office and am in a bit of a rush so I don’t have long to speak.” </p><p>“I was calling in a favor you owe me,” Hannibal answered as he pulled back out onto the main road and began the long drive home. </p><p>There was a hiss through teeth and an unsettled laugh. “I had hoped you had forgotten about Mrs. Philips.” </p><p>Hannibal echoed the laugh back to him. “Regrettably, I have not.” </p><p>“This must be rather important if you’re pulling out that old card.” There was a deep sigh from Donald and Hannibal waited patiently for whatever the man was going to say next. “What do you need done?” </p><p>“I have a patient who has been suffering from insomnia, hallucinations, lost time, and sleeping walking among other issues. He is under the strict illusion that his symptoms are physical afflictions.” </p><p>“And you disagree?” </p><p>“I am keeping all options open,” Hannibal corrected. </p><p>“Alright. I have an opening in a week or so,” Donald offered and Hannibal frowned at the time frame. How entirely inconsiderate. </p><p>“I expect him to be seen tomorrow morning, otherwise I would not be calling in my favor.” Hannibal’s voice was flat. This wasn’t an option, this wasn’t a good wishes call and Hannibal wasn’t about to let Donald think it was such. </p><p>“I can’t just cancel someone’s appointment, Doctor Lecter, even if you think-”</p><p>“Then I expect an exception to be made. What time is your first appointment?” </p><p>There was an annoyed huff of air and Hannibal waited for the answer. “Nine.”</p><p>“Then we will be there at seven.” </p><p>“Eight would be just fine,” Donald argued and Hannibal’s grip on the steering wheel tightened considerably. If Donald wanted to make it through this then he was going to have to change his tune. Hannibal was not in the mood for haughty arrogance. </p><p>“I am wanting both an MRI and CT done. I will be there at seven.” </p><p>“There will be a bill,” Donald grumbled. </p><p>“I will take care of it,” Hannibal assured through a tight jaw. </p><p>“Alright,” Donald finally agreed, though there was anything but acceptance in his voice. “Tomorrow at seven. I will be in my Noble Hills Care Center office tomorrow.” </p><p>“Perfect. Have a good evening, Donald.” </p><p>“You as well.” </p><p>Hannibal lowered the phone at the half baked sentiment and frowned. The man had always been disagreeable. Again, they were friendly to one another, as any students in similar fields would be, but they were by no means friends just as Hannibal didn’t consider Alana a friend. Donald was simply another piece to be used when he was helpful. </p><p>Hannibal found himself once more at home and checked on Will. Finding the man still fast asleep, he made his way into the kitchen and went to work on dinner. He did his best to stay quiet as he worked. </p><p>The chicken was cleaned and placed into a large pot with some ginger and fruit before adding a bit of salt and allowing the mixture to cook through and come to a boil. With things settled in the kitchen and all that still needed to be done was let the food cook, Hannibal made his way back upstairs and to his bedroom with a fresh glass of water.</p><p>He stepped into the dark space and passed the bed for the bathroom. He flicked on the light and located some acetaminophen before he made his way back to the bed. He set the items down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the mattress once more, the light from the bathroom giving the room enough light to see by now that the sun had disappeared. </p><p>“Will,” he whispered, fingers once more brushing curls from the empath’s face. There was a moan from the man who inhaled deeply and shook his head, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. “I have some medicine for you that I would like you to take. There’s also a glass of water that I would like you to finish. Dinner is nearly done.” </p><p>“How are my couch pillows?” Will grumbled, once more leaning into Hannibal’s gentle touches. </p><p>Hannibal couldn’t help but chuckle. “All intact, I assure you.” Will nodded and his eyes blinked open, a little more alert than they had been earlier. “And I am sure that your dogs miss you too.” </p><p>“They were all ok?” Will released his hold on Hannibal’s pillow, a flush filling his cheeks most likely at the realization that that was what he had been holding. Hannibal smiled at the action and reached out to help Will sit up. Will’s teeth clenched and he groaned as he lied back against the dark headboard. “They were ok?” he pushed once more as his head leaned back and his eyes closed in pain. He licked at his lips that were chapped and let out a shuddering breath. </p><p>“All seven were perfectly in place.” </p><p>“I have eight.” </p><p>Hannibal paused for a moment, blinking at Will, unsure he had heard correctly. He opened his mouth but closed it again, carefully digging through each of his memories and counting the number of furry bodies that had been present through each of them, coming up with the same number each time. Seven. </p><p>“Will, I-” </p><p>“I’m kidding,” Will interrupted with a bright smile, though his eyes stayed closed. He looked as if he were holding back his laughter and Hannibal assumed that it had to do with the fact that it hurt Will far too much to perform the action. “Please tell me that I scared you at least a little bit.” </p><p>Hannibal let out a deep breath and shook his head. “Deplorable boy,” he scolded, only causing Will’s smile to grow. </p><p>“Thank you for looking after them, Hannibal,” Will continued without missing a beat. “And thank you for looking after me.” Those eyes finally flickered open and his smile softened to something a little more affectionate. “You said you were worried about me?” </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal answered with a nod, doing his best to not let the words he had released in his excitement earlier that morning haunt his words now. Such sentiments were better left in that moment. It would have been better for Will to let them lie, but Will was like Beverly in that respect. He dug and would continue to dig until he had all of the answers he possibly wanted. He would outlive God to have the last word if it got him the outcome that he wanted and it was an admirable quality, but it also made the boy dangerous. “I need to check on dinner. Please take your medicine and drink your water.” </p><p>Hannibal tried to stand from the bed, but a hand reached out and snatched his up. Hannibal lowered himself back to the bed with a frown at the way that Will’s body tensed at the hurried movement. Hannibal let out a sigh and his thumb gently caressed the back of Will’s hand as if it were the most natural thing for it to do in the world. </p><p>“You didn’t sleep?” </p><p>“I couldn’t,” Hannibal acknowledged softly. </p><p>“You were so calm on the phone,” Will argued back without a bite in his tone. His eyes simply roamed over Hannibal in thought before returning to meet Hannibal’s gaze. “You would have fooled me.” </p><p>“It wouldn’t have done us any good if two of us were panicking, Will.” </p><p>“Were you panicking?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“But you were worried enough that you couldn’t sleep,” Will pointed out, once more licking at his lips. </p><p>“Is there something you’re trying to say, dear boy?” Hannibal asked back, his words far more impatient than how he had meant them. </p><p>Will shook his head, though a smile played over his lips. He sighed. “Not at all, Doctor.” </p><p>The hand in Hannibal’s tightened its grip significantly and Hannibal stole a glance down at their intertwined fingers. When had they become tangled like that? Hannibal couldn’t find the answer anywhere in his head and he let his eyes trail over the man resting in his bed, taking in every detail he could.</p><p>The curls that framed his face that was shadowed in scruff and possibly needed a shave came first. Hannibal found he didn’t mind how Will chose to wear facial hair but also wasn’t sure he could place how Will preferred it as he wore it so differently each time Hannibal saw him. Next were those deep-set and tired blue eyes and the line of a nose that, until now, Hannibal hadn’t put much focus on. It was a bit crooked and Hannibal guessed that at some point in his life Will must have broken it. His lips were focused on after. Pink and full and chapped, though that seemed to fit the rugged man a bit more than Hannibal liked to admit. </p><p>The paleness of his throat and dip of his collar were pronounced and his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow he took. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his ribs horribly defined on his exhale from obviously not feeding himself well enough. His arms were strong from hard labor, powerful enough to take a life and morph the bodies into something else entirely. And that hand entangled with Hannibal's was rough and calloused from years of fixing boat engines, taking care of dogs, repairing his home, learning to shoot a gun. There were so many wonderful things that these hands could accomplish. </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes returned to Will’s to find something overconfident in the depths and something waiting to be said on those lips that were still slightly smiling. </p><p>“Whatever you have to say, please say it. I won’t ask again,” Hannibal instructed with as much force behind the words as he could. </p><p>“I know when we first met I called what was between us an infatuation, but...” Will trailed off and let his head tip a little more to the side, the words once more caught behind Will’s teeth, though they desperately pulled at his eyes. And there was that little breath again. That same breath that had come across the phone line nights previous. A breath that held far too much significance behind it for it to just be a breath. “Do you love me?” </p><p>Hannibal could hear his answer swirling through his head at a million miles an hour, could feel it sink into his bones and try to splinter them apart. He wasn’t quite sure if he could name it as love yet, though he didn’t have another name for it. Falling in love wasn’t right, but falling was closer. </p><p>Falling with Will had been the easy part. Admitting it to himself was what was difficult. Hannibal had worked so hard to keep in place efficient defenses for so long and Will barely noticed them. It was incredibly rude the way that Will had bypassed them, but maybe they had been meant for others all along and Will had his own door. </p><p>So, no. Love was not right. Not in this moment. But falling was what this had been. Falling headfirst into a vat of anxiety and empathy. Falling into a man with seven dogs and a job that toed insanity. Falling into the towers and forts and boneyards that were Will Graham.</p><p>“I adore you, Will.” The admittance left the room in an odd sort of suspension that Hannibal couldn’t place but found he didn’t quite mind altogether. His defenses were just paper, paper that was being soaked by the rapidly falling snow just outside the windows. “I adore you in frightening, dangerous ways.” </p><p>Will’s hand pulled from Hannibal’s grip and Hannibal let his eyes close as fingers found his cheekbone and graced over it, tracing it with a respect that Hannibal could only compare to as something akin to worship. The fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck and Hannibal was pulled forward and off-balance so far that his hand had to brace itself on the bedside table to stay upright. </p><p>“I adore you too,” Will whispered, breath warm against Hannibal’s lips before the distance was closed between them.</p><p>As much as Hannibal wanted to deceive himself, it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t missed this. He had missed this closeness, this softness, this understanding and it was downright upsetting that being apart from the man for barely more than a week had made his body ache with a hollowness he hadn’t known had been there. </p><p>And Will’s kisses weren’t anything that Hannibal had experienced before. The other attachments in his life had been a means to an end, something to get what he needed or wanted and Will had started out that way as well, but this was different. </p><p>Will’s kiss was the promise of realness. A promise that Will was awake, connected within, and that he embraced himself rather than hiding as a copy as he did with the rest of the world. And maybe Will never knew himself when he was alone, but Hannibal knew this was Will. </p><p>
  <em> ...I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with you. </em>
</p><p>Will’s hand at the back of Hannibal’s neck pulled at Hannibal once more to bring him closer, but the movement must have been too much. Will broke the kiss with a hiss through his teeth and pain across his features. His hand jerked itself back and to the sling held shoulder. </p><p>“Sorry,” he whispered with a shuddering exhale. </p><p>“Quiet,” Hannibal hushed, a little winded from the kiss. He gave Will a light smile and brushed Will’s hair back from his face. “Take your medicine and drink your water. I’ll be back with dinner.” </p><p>“Thank you, Hannibal.” </p><p>“You’re very welcome, Will.” </p><p>Hannibal leaned over and pressed a kiss to Will’s fevered forehead before getting to his feet and adjusting his waistcoat. </p><p>He watched for a moment to make sure Will would obey and once the glass of water was in hand, Hannibal excused himself from the room and wandered his way back into the kitchen that smelled wonderfully of fresh ginger. </p><p>He checked the pot and shredded the chicken before ladling out two bowls. He put them on a tray and went about making a few slices of buttered toast and two glasses of orange juice. With the tray in hand, he went back up the stairs and stopped at the door to his room that had been left open a crack and allowed Will’s voice to filter through it. </p><p>“Change your tactics. Use live bait that moves and, uh, excites them to action. You-You gotta make him bite even though he’s not hungry,” Will’s sure voice said and there was a slight pause. Hannibal glanced through the small opening in the door and found Will sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone pressed to his ear.</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as he continued to listen, the guilt he had felt at first intruding on the meant to be private conversation immediately melted away at the double meaning of the words. Words that he wanted to forget hearing. </p><p> “You have to create a reality where only you and the fish exist. Your lure is the one thing he wants, despite everything he knows.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes and inhaled deeply with a pitiful chuckle. Falling had been right. Falling was exactly what he had done. He had fallen right into the place where Will had wanted him. Right into that realness and that copy that he presented to the rest of the world because a copy was exactly what Hannibal had gotten too. A copy of a man with anxiety and empathy and seven dogs and a job that toed insanity and towers and forts and boneyards that were Will Graham. Because Will Graham wasn’t any one person. Will Graham was anyone and everyone he wanted to be at any precise moment and he had been Hannibal’s in all of the correct moments. </p><p>“Cunning boy,” Hannibal whispered to himself, finally letting his eyes open and rest on the bruised back of Will. </p><p>“Yeah. I’m a good fisherman, Jack.” </p><p>Hannibal balanced the tray on his forearm and knocked on the door before pushing it further open. Will jumped and turned to look back at Hannibal with a pained moan, but Hannibal didn’t much care. Not anymore. Not now. </p><p>What a lie that was because even now that he knew the truth, now that he finally knew what side Will was playing, he still cared. It carved so deeply into his chest that he found it difficult to breathe. Will had manipulated him into caring and he cared to the point that his new reality made his stomach churn with the want to be emptied. </p><p>“I’ll be back to work on Wednesday,” Will assured the device in his hand, giving Hannibal a kind smile as Hannibal set Will’s glass, bowl, and a plate of toast on the bedside table. Hannibal bit his tongue harshly as he tried not to think about all of the hidden insinuations that were behind that smile. “Teaching only. I still need to meet with Doctor Lecter before then.” Hannibal went around to the other side of the bed and set his items on the table in front of the lonely fireplace and took his seat in one of the chairs there as well. “Why would I need Bloom or Heimlich to perform my psych eval? Doctor Lecter is my psychiatrist, the one that you required me to start seeing if I may remind you.” Hannibal glanced up at movement and watched as Will’s unsteady form rose from the bedside and he picked up his food in a precarious grip. Hannibal didn’t dare move from where he sat, he simply observed Will’s struggle as Will came to join him at the table and took the chair opposite him. “Fine. We’ll discuss it Wednesday. Goodbye Jack.” </p><p>Will lowered the phone and placed it on the tabletop before shining blue met Hannibal. Hannibal was given another smile and he returned it halfheartedly, watching Will’s eyes turn in favor of something more concerned than happy. </p><p>“Smells delicious.”</p><p>“I hope I wasn’t interrupting,” Hannibal muttered, sitting up a little more in his chair. </p><p>“No,” Will answered, a frown pulling at his lips that had no reason to frown. As far as Hannibal was concerned they frowned far too much and Will needed to smile more, but the idea of that barely-there sunny smile made something cold flood his bloodstream. “You weren’t. You know how Jack is.” </p><p>“I certainly do.” Hannibal exhaled deeply and reached for his spoon, dipping it into his soup and taking a bite. At a silence and no movement from Will whatsoever, Hannibal lowered his spoon and again met concerned eyes. “What is it, Will?” </p><p>“You’re not going to explain what we’re having?” he asked, brows furrowing as a confused smile graced those lips. “You always tell me what we’re eating.” Will gave a breathy laugh. “Did I do something to upset you?” </p><p>“No,” Hannibal replied quickly, breath caught somewhere in his throat at the lie. But Will was right. If Hannibal was going to pretend like there was nothing wrong between them, then he had to act as if everything were normal and normal was telling Will what Will was about to eat. Hannibal glanced down at his bowl for a moment before composing himself and looking back up. “Silkie chicken in a broth.” At Will’s interested tip of his head, Hannibal continued to satisfy the empath. “A black-boned bird prized in China for its medicinal values since the 7th century. Wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise.” </p><p>Will’s brows rose and something cruel danced in his eyes. “You made me chicken soup?” </p><p>Hannibal stared at Will, unsure what exactly to say. If Will knew that he had been caught, he wasn’t showing it. He was carrying on as if nothing had happened, but Hannibal was finding it difficult to slip into the same charade that they had been performing. Their game was now nothing more than just an absurd pretense intended to create a pleasant or respectable appearance. It held no more meaning to it and Hannibal was right back at the beginning, trying to figure out what he needed to do with this man who had inserted himself into Hannibal’s life. </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal finally answered. That seemed to have been enough for Will because he picked up his spoon and took a bite of the soup. “I have an appointment set up for you to see a neurologist tomorrow morning.” </p><p>Will lowered the spoon and licked his lip, a nervousness pouring from him. Will’s hand rubbed at his chin and he gasped as if he had been holding his breath. “The hallucinations, the, um, loss of time, sleepwalking...” There was something frightened in his words. He swallowed and Hannibal was surprised to find Will’s eyes focused on his nose instead of meeting his gaze head-on as they had always been able to do. “Could that have all just been this fever? You said the fever was just from stress. Could the rest of it be from that too?” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply and took another thoughtful sip of the broth before focusing on finding an answer to the question. Had Will been telling the truth? Had Will really been suffering from everything he had mentioned or was it all just another piece of Uncle Jack’s plan? How much of Will was Will and how much of Will was Jack’s hound dog? Had there ever been a difference? </p><p> “Fevers can be symptoms of dementia.” Will gave a nod but didn’t look too pleased with the words. “Dementia can be a symptom of many things happening in your body or mind that can no longer be ignored, Will.” </p><p>Will’s smile was tight and he looked like he was on the edge of tears. “Does Jack know?” </p><p>Hannibal was taken aback by the question. He had been relaying some of their conversations to Jack, but only the ones necessary to keep up their doctor and patient play for the FBI, though now he wondered just how much Jack knew of their meetings. </p><p>“That this could be more than a fever?” Hannibal questioned and Will gave a minute nod. “No. I haven’t told him.” </p><p>“Sh-shouldn’t you?” </p><p>The surprise sounded genuine in Will’s words and Hannibal once more had to applaud the man for his performance. It was excruciatingly convincing, almost to the point where Hannibal wanted to forget whatever fishing metaphors had been said over the phone and just believe that Jack had been looking for fishing advice from Will, but the metaphor had been far too clear cut. Will was the lure and had always been the lure, made exactly to catch Hannibal. </p><p>“Not until we know for certain,” Hannibal explained away, eating more of the soup and Will glanced around the bedroom, looking lost. “What we must do now is continue to support and monitor your recovery, physically and mentally.” </p><p>“I don’t know if I’m ready to-”</p><p>“We do not have to discuss anything now,” Hannibal assured, reaching out for his glass and taking a drink of it. “You went through a traumatic experience and one needs to process it personally before they are ready to be open about it.” </p><p>“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to be open about it. I’m afraid to remember what I did.” </p><p>“Can’t say I blame you, especially after what Beverly told me.” </p><p>There was a sharp iciness that filled the room and Hannibal was met with distrusting blue and an exasperated fit of laughter. “I told you that if you desperately want to know things about me, you just had to ask. I specifically asked you to not pry into my life with my coworker as your fountain of information.” </p><p>“She stopped by this morning to provide me with an update on your well being. I take it that she didn’t know you were waiting for me at my office.” </p><p>Will shook his head, brows furrowed together, though the betrayal was not lessened in his words. “I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving the hospital. That still does not give you permission to-” </p><p>“She told me about what you did.” </p><p>“What I did,” Will repeated, falling back in his seat with a wounded moan, hand once more taking his shoulder. “What do you mean what I did? I killed someone is what I did. And it wasn’t the first person and it’s not going to be the last person. What did she tell you?” </p><p>“She said that you reloaded your firearm after the man was already dead.” Hannibal made himself busy with picking at a loose string on the hem of his sleeve, unsure if he could keep this up much longer. “She expressed her worry about you. That was merely it.” </p><p>“She doesn’t need to be worried over me.” </p><p>“I was worried over you,” Hannibal pointed out. “Do you remember calling me on the phone?” </p><p>“What?” Will asked back, the anger leaving his body immediately. He winced as he straightened himself back up in his chair. Hannibal watched carefully, trying to read every last emotion over Will’s face. “Uh...” A hand went to Will’s head and his fingers clutched at his curls, eyes looking up and to the left. “We were talking before I left with Beverly.” </p><p>Did he really not remember?</p><p>“You called me after that.” </p><p>“I don’t remember calling you.” There was a forced huff of air and Will bit his lips between his teeth. “I don’t remember, Hannibal. I don’t remember any of it.” </p><p>“None of it?” Hannibal asked, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. If this was a show then Will was a far more cunning boy than Hannibal had given him credit for. Will shook his head. “The first words out of your mouth were: I just killed him.” </p><p>Will’s face paled and he shook his head desperately. “No,” he whispered with a fake laugh. “No. I never called you.” </p><p>“I am fairly certain you did. I also spoke to Beverly over the same phone call. If you are so inclined to not believe me, then maybe you should confirm the details with her?”</p><p>“Hannibal, the last thing I remember is clearing that house and then speaking to Zeller and Price outside. The next thing I knew I was in the hospital. I don’t remember going back into that house. I don’t remember using my gun. I don’t remember reloading it. I don’t remember.”</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal warned at the terror that flooded those icy pools. </p><p>“I’m having a hard time thinking.” His breathing was ragged and erratic, panic leaching from the man in a black ooze. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I-I-” He shook his head, hand only holding tighter to his curls. “I-I don’t know what’s real.” </p><p>Hannibal sighed and licked his lips, torn utterly in half with what to do. Did he help or stand by and watch? Was Will actually sick or was this just another carefully placed feather in the lure made for Hannibal? Was Will that good of an actor? </p><p>Hannibal cleared his throat and lifted his shirt sleeve to check his watch. “It’s 7:27 p.m,” he stated and he could see the hopelessness pull at Will’s face. “You’re in Baltimore, Maryland, and your name is Will Graham.”</p><p>“No!” The word was frantic. “I don’t care who I am! Just tell me what’s real.” Will’s head dropped down onto the table and his fingers carded through his hair. “Tell me who’s been standing in the corner of this room this whole time. Please tell me if he’s real.” </p><p>Hannibal took a quick glance around the room and found it empty. Maybe his hallucinations were real. Maybe Will hadn’t been lying, but Hannibal couldn’t play that field. It wasn’t safe to venture back into the carefully created lie that was Will Graham. </p><p>“Who do you see Will?” Hannibal asked cautiously, standing from the table to step over to Will’s side. He helped Will sit up and he pressed a hand to Will’s forehead. He was burning up. Will’s breaths came out in gasps and a fresh sheen of sweat was over his skin. There was something wrong. Will wouldn’t be able to fake symptoms like these. </p><p>“Ethan Pats. Who do you see?” </p><p>“I don’t see anyone.” </p><p>There was a whine to Will’s voice and his eyes were focused somewhere behind Hannibal. “No, he’s right there.” </p><p>“There’s no one there, Will.” </p><p>“No, no, you’re lying.” </p><p>Hannibal once more glanced around the room before his hands carefully took Will’s face, trying to call Will’s attention back to him. “We’re alone.” </p><p>“No, please don’t lie to me!” A tear slipped down Will’s cheek and a choked sob erupted from his throat. </p><p>“Ethan Pats is dead,” Hannibal reminded in as firm a tone as he could, only able to imagine a fourteen-year-old boy whose head was bashed in with a two by four. If that really was the fate that had befallen him... “You killed him. You watched him die.” </p><p>“What’s happening to me?” Will demanded, a hand running over his face as he continued to fall apart in Hannibal’s grip. </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal called, but it did nothing to still the man who was shaking himself to pieces. “Will,” Hannibal tried once more. “Will.” Will’s hand dropped to his side, breathing stuttering. “Will?” There was no answer, just whimpers with each breath as Will continued to tremble. His eyes had rolled back and guilt filled Hannibal at having not taken Will more seriously. </p><p>He carefully lowered Will from the chair and to the floor, making sure Will was laying on his better side. He pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed and folded it up, placing it under Will’s jerking head to try to support it. He dropped to his knees beside Will and looked over his watch, counting how many times the second hand ticked in agonizing slowness. </p><p>When Will had finally stopped his fit, Hannibal closed his eyes with a small sigh. A mild seizure. He wouldn’t have to go to the hospital as long as he didn’t experience anymore that night and there was absolutely no way that Hannibal was going to allow Will to go anywhere but back into bed because even if Will was a lie, Hannibal still adored him. </p><p>There was a gasp and Hannibal gingerly guided Will back up into a sitting position. Will blinked several times and Hannibal brushed the damp hair from Will’s face to be able to check the dilation of his eyes a little better. </p><p>“Repeat after me,” he instructed softly and blue eyes danced around the room for a moment before finally focusing on Hannibal. “My name is Will Graham.” </p><p>“My name is Will Graham,” Will whispered out gruffly. </p><p>Hannibal let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and nodded in relief. “Please raise your arm.” Will’s body was slow to comply, but Will’s right arm lifted out weakly. “More,” Hannibal encouraged. “More.” Once Will’s arm was above his head, Hannibal helped him lower it back down, noting the way the pain flashed across Will’s face. “Good,” he praised. “Although you may not feel like it, I need you to smile.” Will’s eyes held enough wherewithal to tell Hannibal that that was the absolute last thing that he wanted to do, but after a few shaky breaths, Will’s lips twisted into a hollow smile. “Good.” Hannibal exhaled deeply with his own small smile, a hand reaching up to caress Will’s face. “It wasn’t a stroke. You may have had a seizure. Tell me the last thing you remember.” </p><p>“I...” Will panted, gasping for breath, and his eyes once more darted behind Hannibal to where they had been earlier. “I was with Ethan Pats.” Hannibal’s hand once more pressed to Will’s forehead and Will’s gaunt eyes snapped back to Hannibal. </p><p>“Your fever is worse.” Hannibal lowered his hand back to Will’s shoulder, helping the man keep his balance as he wavered. “You were hallucinating. You thought he was alive, here in the room with you.”</p><p>“I saw him,” Will insisted, licking at his lips, still breathing hard. </p><p>“He’s a delusion disguising reality. Don’t let that let you slip away.” Hannibal slipped an arm under Will’s and helped pull the man to his feet, taking all of Will’s dead weight as his knees gave out. “You killed Ethan Pats once. You can find a way to kill him again.” </p><p>“I want to go home.” Will tried to pull from Hannibal’s grip and Hannibal struggled to keep a hold of the man. </p><p>“No, no, no, no, no, no. Will.” He gripped Will a little tighter, ignoring the gasp of pain from the bruises, and forced Will towards the bed. “You’re in no state to go anywhere. You’re going to stay here where I can monitor you tonight and then we are going to see Dr. Sutcliffe first thing in the morning.” </p><p>“Hannibal I-” </p><p>“Hush,” Hannibal instructed, guiding Will down onto the bed and kneeling beside it. Will’s hand clutched tightly to Hannibal’s arm and Hannibal sighed, trying to give Will a small smile. “You’re going to lay down now, alright?” </p><p>“No,” Will argued, though there wasn’t much fight in the words. “No, I-” </p><p>“Will.” Hannibal leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Will’s forehead. He held it there for a moment before he felt the empath relax slightly into the touch. “I’m going to take care of you, alright? You need to sleep now.” </p><p>“Hannibal,” Will whispered, fingers clinging tighter to Hannibal’s sleeve. “You’re not supposed to be so nice. Why are you so nice?” </p><p>“I care about you, silly boy.” Hannibal carefully unlatched Will’s fingers from his dress shirt and directed Will into the bed and on his side, making sure to keep him in the recovery position. “Try to sleep for me.” Hannibal stood up and went to make his way to the bathroom, but Will’s hand once more snatched up his wrist and stopped him. </p><p>“Don’t go!” It was a miserable plea that sent splinters through Hannibal’s heart that was working overtime to be indifferent to the situation. “D-don’t go, Hannibal.” </p><p>“I’ll be right back,” Hannibal assured, once more prying Will’s fingers from his arm. “I’m not going to leave your side.” </p><p>“You promise?” </p><p>“Of course, dear boy.” </p><p>Will nodded, eyes falling shut with an exhausted breath and Hannibal tucked Will’s arm back into his side before heading to the bathroom that was still providing the only light to the bedroom. He fetched a washcloth and turned on the sink to let the water warm just slightly. His shirtsleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up and he removed his waistcoat and tie, setting them aside on the vanity. He wet down the washcloth and wrung it out before returning to the bedside. </p><p>He knelt and pressed the cloth to Will’s head. He inhaled sharply, eyes flickering open. Hannibal provided him with an assured half-smile. “I know it’s unpleasant, but this will help with the fever,” Hannibal explained softly. “The acetaminophen should hopefully be helping here shortly.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Will whispered, eyes flickering shut once more as Hannibal moved the rag to one of his cheeks. </p><p>“Whatever for?” </p><p>“I didn’t finish the soup.” </p><p>Hannibal couldn’t help the chuckle that left him, ease slowly filling his bloodstream once more. “You don’t need to worry about the soup.” </p><p>“It was good. Even if it didn’t have any noodles.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.”<br/>― Tucker Max</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>God, please don't hate me too hard with this chapter. Let me know what you thought though!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<hr/><p>The office door was opened and Hannibal ushered a ragged looking Will through the open doorway. </p><p>“You’re in very good hands,” Donald stated as he closed the door behind them and straightened his tie. “Doctor Lecter here is one of the sanest men I know.” </p><p>Hannibal watched as Will carefully stepped through the office, doing his best not to frown at the words that Donald let slip, the man obviously still upset about Hannibal’s insistence in their meeting this early in the morning. </p><p>“I would agree,” Hannibal stated only to jab back at Donald as the man patted him on the shoulder and then retreated behind his desk. Hannibal stepped over to one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk, keeping a close eye on Will whose skin was still sickly pale, though his fever had thankfully let up. “Doctor Sutcliffe and I were residents together at Hopkins,” Hannibal explained to Will, though he couldn’t be sure if the empath was actually paying much attention as his eyes focused anywhere but on the other people in the room. His hand pulled his coat from his shoulders and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. </p><p>“Another life ago,” Donald mused, sitting in his chair and removing his glasses from his nose, the jab coming right back at Hannibal. “Back when you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty.” </p><p>“I was always drawn to how the mind works. I found it much more dynamic than how the brain works.” Hannibal took a seat in the chair and glanced over at Will who followed suit, but still had yet to say a word since they had entered the building. </p><p>“The projected image is more interesting than the projector, until, of course, the projector breaks down.” Hannibal gave a nod in answer, casting a glance once more at Will who had huffed out a breath, having not enjoyed the comparison of him to something so mundane. Donald looked over a file on his desk before continuing to speak again. “So, Will, these headaches.” He sat back in his chair, playing with the glasses still in his hand. “When did they begin in earnest?” </p><p>“Two to three months ago,” Will answered, tone soft as his eyes dropped to the hand in his lap, the other still held in the sling close to his chest.</p><p>“About the time Will went back into the field,” Hannibal answered for Will who looked over thankfully. “Which was a little before I met him.” </p><p>Donald nodded. “And the hallucinations?” </p><p>“I can’t really say when they started.” The answer was slow, the words creaky like wind through tree branches. “Um...” He swallowed and licked at his lips. “I just slowly became aware that I might not be dreaming.”</p><p>There was a silence and slowly Donald’s eyes moved over to Hannibal in question as if to say that Hannibal hadn’t told him the vast seriousness of the situation and he should have done so in their phone call the day prior. </p><p>“We’re going to run some tests today, Will,” Donald finally stated and Hannibal tried to ignore the way that Will shivered uncomfortably. “Nothing too horrific. Just some brain scans. They won’t even hurt.” </p><p>“That’s what they say about flu shots,” Will grumbled, pulling his glasses from his nose and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. </p><p>Donald ushered them from the room and led Will to a private room where the man changed into a gown. When he reappeared from the room, his arm was still held tightly to his chest despite the fact that it was no longer in its sling. </p><p>A worried blue gaze met Hannibal’s and all Hannibal could do was nod reassuringly and stay beside a limping Will as Donald led them down the hallway and towards the room they would be running the tests in. </p><p>“Will, do you mind informing me how you received your injuries?” Donald questioned insensitively and Will flinched. </p><p>“He was injured while in pursuit of a suspect,” Hannibal answered once more in Will’s place, allowing the empath to stay in a small bubble of security.  </p><p>“Those are quite extensive for a tumble.” </p><p>“He had an axe,” Will answered curtly, causing Donald to give an excusing huff of laughter and a thin lipped smile. </p><p>“Through here, if you would Will. Debra will get you all set up.” Donald pushed open a door and Will glanced back at Hannibal wearily before limping his way through the door. Hannibal followed in after and to a side room where all of the monitors were set up and waiting to display their information. Donald sat in the single chair and sighed. “He’s a mess, Hannibal.” </p><p>“Why do you think I was so insistent in seeing you?” Hannibal asked back, folding his arms over his chest as he watched through a meshed window as Will was handed some ear plugs from a brunette woman who also looked peeved that she had to be to work so early in the morning. “He also suffered from a seizure last night as well as a fever.” </p><p>“Was it only the one?” Donald asked back and Hannibal nodded in answer. “Well, your hope is as good as mine that we find something. There’s a possibility that we won’t. Does he have any family history of schizophrenia? He’s in the age range.” </p><p>“He is insistent that he does not, though he knows nothing about his mother’s side of the family.” </p><p>“It could be paraphrenia. That might be more realistic now that we’re discussing this out loud.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a small nod in agreement, watching as Will hoisted himself with one arm up onto the table and carefully laid down, bandaged legs just as black and purple as his arms and torso had been. </p><p>“It’s encephalitis,” Hannibal announced bluntly. He had come to the conclusion the night before as he helped Will through several nightmares with varying degrees of awareness. </p><p>“That’s your pre-diagnosis?” Donald asked back in disbelief, snatching up Will’s file to once more look over it.</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“Based on...?” He closed the file and tossed it on the desk, looking over Hannibal curiously. </p><p>“I could smell it.” Sometimes Hannibal despised his sense of smell. Sometimes things as simple as a field of flowers, while riveting to look at, would become overwhelming in their aroma. Death was another such fragrance that Hannibal had to dabble carefully in or it would be trapped on him for weeks. Hannibal could easily recall a time back in school when he had been able to smell stomach cancer on his teacher before he was diagnosed with it. It was a simple gift that was more hindrance than help, though it would never be anywhere comparable to Will’s empathy. </p><p>“So your sense of smell has gone from calling out a nurse’s perfume to diagnosing autoimmune disease,” Donald snapped back cockily as if he refused to believe something that ridiculous. </p><p>Hannibal shot him a smile. “He started sleepwalking and I noticed a very specific scent.” </p><p>“And what exactly does encephalitis smell like?” Donald challenged, arms folding over his chest. </p><p>“It has heat,” Hannibal answered back thoroughly, regarding the doctor beside him before returning his gaze to Will just on the other side of the glass. “A fevered sweetness.” That same scent that he had picked up in his office the day before. </p><p>Donald was silent in thought, brows furrowed together before he looked back up at Hannibal. “If you suspected, why didn’t you say something?” </p><p>“Had to be sure.” The answer was flat. There was more to it than that. A mountain more emotion and reasonings behind it than that, but that was all that Donald needed to know. Nothing less and nothing more. “Symptoms began slowly and gradually worsened. And a few days ago, I asked him to draw a clock.” Hannibal rummaged in his pocket for a moment before pulling free his phone and digging through it to find the picture that Will had sent him. “This is what he drew.” He held out his phone and Donald put his glasses back on before taking the device to look over. </p><p>“Huh,” he muttered, zooming in on the picture to regard it for a moment more. “Spatial neglect.” He pulled his glasses from his nose. “Headaches, disorientation, hallucinations, altered consciousness.” He passed the phone back to Hannibal who took it and shoved it back into his coat pocket. “It’s all the tell-tale signs.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded with a deep breath, the words coming from him before he could stop them. It had been an idea that had plagued him all night long, something that swirled through his mind until it consumed him and all because of Will’s phone call to Jack. He had had a multitude of hours to think over the idea, hours being alone and simply guarding the empath from his own head.</p><p>“It is so rare to be able to study the psychological effect of this type of malady on a person’s mind.” </p><p>There was a hint of a smile over Donald’s face. “It’s more rare still to be able to study the neurological effects,” Donald said, the words holding a cautious air as if he were testing the waters to make sure he understood exactly what Hannibal was saying. </p><p>“A doctor has to weigh the ultimate benefit of scientific study.” Hannibal watched as Will was leveled up with the large machine and placed inside it, knowing exactly what loud and rattling sounds would come for his ears once the machine roared to life. “Even in these times, we know so little about the brain. There are great discoveries to be made.”</p><p>Uncertainty flickered over Donald’s face and Hannibal wondered if maybe he had pushed too far as the space between them fell silent. </p><p>Time ticked by slowly and Hannibal simply observed as images appeared on the screens in front of them, slowly detailing the scans of the peculiar mind just outside of the room. Different areas of the brain were highlighted at different points and eventually Donald sat forward in his chair and began scrolling through the images before pulling several of them up on the screen, one side of Will's mind shaded in blue and the other in a fiery red. </p><p>Donald pointed to the screen with his glasses. “The right side of his brain is completely inflamed.” Hannibal attempted to make himself look interested by resting a hand on Donald’s chair and leaning over to better see the screen, though he didn’t need to. “It’s anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis. The symptoms are only going to get worse.” </p><p>“I know,” Hannibal said, the words once more leaving him before he could stop them. “It’s unfortunate for Will.” </p><p>Donald turned to look up at Hannibal for a moment, but Hannibal ignored him until the doctor turned his attention back to the monitors. “What do you smell on me?” he teased with uncertainty. </p><p>
  <em> I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“Opportunity,” Hannibal answered after a moment, fingers tapping the back of the chair he leaned against. Donald once more looked up at him and Hannibal finally returned the gaze. “Think of the merit to the medical community if we were to study this. Think about how your name will be seen going forward. We would be able to help future patients with this type of information made public. How many people would be better off?” </p><p>Donald didn’t say a word, but Hannibal could read the pride on his features at the mention of his name being recognized in their field. Donald had always been vain in much the same way that Frederick Chilton was vain, though Donald was far more reserved about his desires. </p><p>Donald rummaged through his files and pulled up several different pictures until there were several up on the desk that were completely blue instead of an offending red. “And what are you going to tell him it is?” </p><p>“I will handle that,” Hannibal assured. </p><p>
  <em> I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>If Will wanted to play fisherman then Hannibal was more than happy to play catch and release. He swallowed down the guiltiness. There was no reason to feel guilty. Not when Will had strung him along so flawlessly. </p><p>
  <em>My compassion for you is inconvenient, Will.</em>
</p><p>A few more scans were run, each coming up with the same results and Hannibal waited beside Donald in that small side room until Will was once more dressed and shown in to receive the results.</p><p>Will stood beside the desk, eyeing the screen carefully, though he stayed silent, safely hidden behind his sling and glasses. Even when Hannibal took a step towards him, Will didn’t react as if he already knew exactly what Donald was going to say and was trying to prepare himself for it. </p><p>“We didn’t find anything abnormal,” Donald announced. Will’s eyes flickered over to Donald before returning to the computer as if willing the pictures on the screen to say something different. “No vascular malformations, no tumors.” Donald made a show by putting on his glasses and looking over Will’s open file. “No swelling or bleeding, no evidence of stroke. Nothing.” Donald shook his head and pulled his glasses from his nose, finally gaining Will’s attention. “There’s nothing wrong with you neurologically.” </p><p>Will swallowed and licked at his lips, brows knitting together behind the frames of his oval glasses. “So what I’m experiencing is psychological.” There was nothing but skepticism in his tone, unaccepting of the conclusion that had been presented to him. </p><p>“Well...” Donald sighed and glanced up at Hannibal and Hannibal could feel the remorse from the doctor and hoped that Will was still far too out of it to take notice. “Brain scans can’t diagnose, uh...” He looked over the computer quickly, the regret clear on his face as he looked over the brain scans that didn’t belong to Will. “Mental disorders. They can only rule out medical illnesses like a tumor, which can have similar symptoms.” </p><p>There was a deafening silence in the room and Hannibal kept his mouth shut tightly as the discomfort began to build, Will looking utterly put out and Donald miserable at best. </p><p>
  <em> I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“Look,” Donald finally said and Hannibal eyed him sharply. “We’ll run some more tests. We’ll take some blood samples, but I imagine they’ll prove to be just as inconclusive.” Will didn’t say a word but gave a small nod in understanding. “Will, would you mind taking this to Debra?” Donald pulled Will’s file to him and scribbled something down into it before passing it over to Will who slowly took it. “She will take you to get your blood work done. I will send Doctor Lecter to fetch you in a moment. I need to have a word with him.”</p><p>“Alright,” Will muttered, voice thick and dry. He slowly left the room and Donald rubbed at his mouth for a moment before rising from his chair. </p><p>“I can’t do this,” he stated with a deep breath. “He needs to know.” </p><p>“No, he does not,” Hannibal disagreed simply, tone steady and being motivated by those five words that filled his head on repeat. “This is for the betterment of the scientific community. A simple study.” </p><p>“A simple study?” Donald asked back incredulously, hands flung out to his sides before they came back down. “Hannibal, this is a man’s life we’re playing with here. If we aren’t careful he will die.” </p><p>“Then we don’t let him die.” </p><p>“I can’t sit back and watch a mind tear itself apart like that. Even if he doesn’t die, he could suffer from irreparable brain damage.” </p><p>“Give it time, Donald,” Hannibal soothed, a hand reaching out to take the agitated man’s shoulder in a firm squeeze. “Let’s observe him for another week at most. You can run all of the tests you would like and then when you’re satisfied we will get him the help that he needs.” </p><p>“I hope his insurance is good,” Donald grumbled, not convinced in the slightest, but at least he wouldn’t say a word. </p><p>“You’ll be paid,” Hannibal assured with a smile. “I will take care of it personally.” </p><p>“For science?” </p><p>“For science,” Hannibal agreed. “Now what floor are the labs on?” </p><p>
  <em> I’m a good fisherman, Jack. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Hannibal, I need to talk to you,” Will said, breath floating away deadly through the snow that flittered down around them as they made their way through the parking lot. </p><p>“Will, we already discussed the fact that there might not be anything neurologically wrong with you,” Hannibal stated strongly as he unlocked his car, opening Will’s door and helping him into the car. “I will humor you and let Doctor Sutcliffe run more of his tests, but you need to come to accept that this might be more than an autoimmune disease.” Will opened his mouth to speak, but Hannibal closed the passenger side door before he could get a word out. </p><p>Why was it so painful to lie like that to the man? Will had betrayed him first, Hannibal was just playing his own hand. So why did he feel physically ill at the idea that he was hurting Will? </p><p>He brushed the feeling aside to analyze later and made his way around to the driver’s side, climbing in and starting the car. </p><p>Hannibal-” </p><p>“We’re going back to my house. I want you to continue resting. I will check on your dogs and-” </p><p>“Hannibal,” Will interrupted, voice a bit louder this time and Hannibal looked over at the man who had removed his glasses and looked more at ease in his Bentley than he had all morning. “I really need to tell you something.” Hannibal tilted his head to the side in silence and Will licked at his lips nervously. “Look, I don’t know what you heard or what you thought you heard with my phone conversation with Jack, but-”</p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“-you really don’t need to worry about it-</p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“-I meant it when I said I would keep all of your secrets-” </p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“-I’m not going to tell him, Hannibal-” </p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“-I really hope that you understand the sides that I’m playing here and I’m not against you.” </p><p>Hannibal couldn’t find it in himself to answer. He didn’t even know what he should answer. Will had just admitted to baiting Hannibal and he expected Hannibal to accept and be happy with it? To trust the hook cutting through his jaw? To let the perfectly crafted lure pull him in? He couldn’t. Not now that he knew the truth for certain. </p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman, Jack. </em>
</p><p>“I will check on your dogs, Will,” Hannibal pressed on, it being the only thing he could do. “But you are staying with me until I feel you’re stable enough to return home.” </p><p>“Alright,” Will whispered in acceptance, no fight present at all whatsoever. “Thank you for your help Hannibal. No one has ever done anything like this for me.” </p><p>
  <em>They’ve used you the same way I am, silly boy. It’s all you’re good for.</em>
</p><p>“Also, they have arrested someone for the murder of Ethan Pats. I checked the news while I was waiting to get my blood drawn.” </p><p>“Did they, dear boy?” Hannibal asked in feigned interest as he pulled from the medical center’s parking lot. </p><p>“You go distant when you’re upset with me, you know,” Will pointed out, relaxing the best he could into his seat. “You become cold. You did the same thing the first night we had dinner. Do you remember?” Hannibal stayed silent, no words there to be said. There was no use in playing Will’s game anymore and he wasn’t in the mood to try. Not after having spent the entire night on his knees on a hardwood floor without sleep. “When I mentioned following you, you went all quiet like you are now. It’s like you can’t see the other player's hand and you can’t figure out if they’re bluffing. You’re waiting for their tell to give them away, but it hasn’t happened yet.” </p><p>“Astute as ever, Will,” Hannibal muttered, keeping his focus more on the road than on the empath who shifted beside him. </p><p>A hand circled around one of Hannibal’s on the steering wheel and he tore his eyes from the road to watch as Will pulled his hand from the wheel. Will brought the hand to his lips and closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s knuckles. Hannibal sighed, eyes returning to the red light in front of them, waiting impatiently for it to turn green. But as impatient as he was, there was something sweetly calming in Will’s touch as it lingered against Hannibal’s skin. </p><p>“What do I need to do to show you that you don’t have to be afraid of me?” Will asked into the tense silence around them. “What will prove to you that I’m not Jack’s sniffer dog?” Hannibal shook his head in answer, pulling through the intersection, the movement not giving him the freedom he had been irrationally hoping would come at clearing some sort of checkpoint. “I’ll show you. I promise. It will be the most enchanting thing you’ll ever see.” </p><p>“Please release my hand back to my custody, Will,” Hannibal mumbled around the lump in his throat. “I am presently not in the favor of such a discussion.” </p><p>Another kiss was pressed to Hannibal's hand before Will obeyed the command and Hannibal took up the steering wheel once more, hoping it would help stabilize the storming emotions inside of him. </p><p>“Ethan was considered missing until last year when someone finally found his body,” Will continued as if their detour in conversation had never happened. “They must have used dental records to identify him. I’m not sure how else they would have done it. He was found a skeleton and his family had long since died. He had no living relatives to compare DNA to, so teeth would have been the best bet, though I don’t remember if there were any teeth when I was done with him. He was just a pulpy mess of brain matter and blood. And no one uses a dentist down there. We’re too poor. And pulling from the pulp chamber wouldn’t have helped without something to cross reference it to. ” </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal whispered, unsure what kind of satisfaction Will was getting out of the conversation. Normally Hannibal would have been more than happy to accommodate the macabre conversation, would have enjoyed delving deeply into it and the twisted views of the man who held it, but Hannibal didn’t know what to believe anymore and this conversation only felt like Will’s needs to solidity the small hold he still had over Hannibal. “Please. Not right now.” </p><p>“No. I’m telling you this now because I want you to know before my head isn’t mine again. I need someone else to know in case something happens and I can’t come back to myself. I’m scared Hannibal.” Hannibal stole a look over at Will while he waited to make the left hand turn onto his street. The smile on Will’s face did nothing to hide the truth that was in those eyes. Will was terrified. Will’s mind had been against him from the moment of his birth and when Will finally had a small grasp on it, his mind was catching fire and obliterating any hope Will had for being any sort of normal and Hannibal was in no way helping. “I’m frightened that someday I’m going to be locked up somewhere and not know who or what I am.” </p><p>Hannibal turned down his road in silence and it wasn’t until the car was parked back in its home in his driveway that he turned to give Will his full attention. </p><p>“I’m listening,” he said softly. </p><p>“They claimed that the day that Ethan went missing the sheriff’s son was nowhere to be found.”</p><p>“That’s just circumstantial.”</p><p>Will nodded. “It would be if the sheriff hadn’t been cleaning his son’s room and knocked over a chest. In the chest were the cleaned and shellacked bones of four other children, including several bones from Ethan Pats.” </p><p>Hannibal’s brows furrowed as he took in the information given to him. It only confused him more, made everything he had learned more conflicting. “Did you kill Ethan, Will?” </p><p>“Yes,” Will answered with a nod. “I told you exactly what I did. I lured him into the woods and used a two by four to bash in his head.” </p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman, Jack.</em>
</p><p>“Michael Woodmansee is autistic. He readily confessed to everything. He was also being investigated for the strangulation of another child when the bones were found.” Will licked at his lips and ran a hand over his face. “The same day that Ethan went missing, a little boy named Jason Foreman disappeared as well. He was some of the bones in the chest. That’s why they think that Michael committed both. We left before the man hunt for the two of them happened. Everywhere was searched except for the sheriff’s house. Franklin checked in on his son and then continued searching not knowing that Jason was hidden in that house.” </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal sighed. “You’re just making the argument point more in Michael’s favor. I’m beginning to doubt that you-’</p><p>“Michael killed by strangulation,” Will swiftly interrupted. “He was a larger kid, he would have been able to accomplish that with no issues. All of his kills were strangulations. All of the hyoid bones were broken, but Ethan’s wasn’t. His cause of death was ruled blunt force trauma to the head. And if Michael had Jason that whole afternoon, there was no way that Michael could have been in two places at once.” </p><p>“Will-” </p><p>“I’m not done, Hannibal,” Will once more cut in, a pained smile over his lips as he met Hannibal’s gaze for the first time that morning. “The police recovered a journal that Michael kept, detailing every one of his kills and the journal was released to the public after being used in court. Each and every single one of them was documented. How he kidnapped the boys, drugged them and then strangled them. He then stripped the bones by boiling them and fed the meat to his dog. Then he shellacked each body. The only person never mentioned in that journal was Ethan.” </p><p>“In court?” Hannibal asked. “He’s already been tried?” </p><p>“They tried, but the judge ruled him incompetent to stand trial and the case was thrown out. He’s being kept at a treatment facility.” </p><p>“Besides you wanting someone to know the story, why are you telling me this? It has more to it than your mind deteriorating.” </p><p>The car had grown cold by this point and Will’s deep exhale floated through the interior of the car. “I feel like someone needs to know the truth,” Will muttered, gaze going out the windshield as he contemplated what he was going to say. “Maybe it’s just the cop in me, but even if his story stays trapped here in your leather seats, someone needs to know it.” </p><p>“Do you feel guilty about what happened?” Hannibal asked, eyes flickering down Will’s shivering body. He needed to invest in a winter coat soon or Hannibal would buy him one. It didn’t do well for a man to sit in a car with teeth chattering for no reason other than his mindlessness. “You killed someone and then let someone else take the blame for it.” </p><p>“No.” Will shook his head. “I don’t feel guilty. Ethan was no better than the rest of them. He was just as disgusting as Michael was.” </p><p>“As disgusting as we are?” </p><p>Will fell silent at that, looking down at his hand as it played with the hem of his hand me down American Eagle jacket. “We... do what we do to correct a wrong that no one else can correct. We don’t do it to hurt or for sexual gratification. There’s enjoyment when I hold someone’s life in my hands, I won’t pretend that there isn't. I like killing. I like the feeling of being powerful that comes with it, but it's done for the betterment of something. Whether it’s for society or the family or that person themselves, it has a just purpose behind it.” </p><p>“You feel just in killing Ethan Pats,” Hannibal said, nothing like a question in his words, but Will nodded all the same. </p><p>“Did you feel the same your first time?” </p><p>“Just?” </p><p>Will nodded and bit his bottom lip, but then quickly shook his head as if he had changed his mind. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” </p><p>“Will?” </p><p>“I’m tired,” Will whispered, looking up at Hannibal with a light grin. “You don’t mind if I sleep, do you?” </p><p>“I would prefer it,” Hannibal answered, watching as a bit more warmth came to Will’s countenance. “Go rest. I’ll be back after looking in on your dogs.” </p><p>“Thank you Hannibal.” Will leaned over across the center of the car and pressed a chaste kiss to Hannibal’s lips. “I know it’s hard but you don’t need to keep your walls up between us.” Will nuzzled his nose against Hannibal’s for a moment before giving Hannibal another kiss that he let Will give him, unable to fight him as his mind swam with the information that Will had given to him free of charge. Nothing was expected back, nothing needed in return for his story. Just acceptance. “Hurry home to me.” </p><p>Before Hannibal had a chance to counter the words with a scold, Will dragged himself from the car and closed the door, limping his way up to the front door of Hannibal’s home. </p>
<hr/><p>“You knew from the moment you walked into his classroom that you were putting him in a potentially destructive environment,” Hannibal accused in a friendly tone as he sat himself across from Jack at the man’s desk. </p><p>“I had eight college girls brutally raped and murdered. Will caught their killer for me,” Jack defended, sitting up a little fuller in his chair and reaching for a drawer in his desk. From it he produced two tumblers and a bottle of brandy. </p><p>“He also caught their killer's disease,” Hannibal pointed out, taking the glass that was passed to him over the desk, though he didn’t drink any of the dark liquid. “And after this trip to Louisiana, he can't stop thinking about what it is to take a life.” </p><p>“I'd rather he go a little mad than other innocents lose their lives, and I think he would feel the same way.” There was no remorse in the words and Hannibal glared as the man finished off his glass in one swallow before pouring himself another. </p><p>“Will is an innocent,” Hannibal pointed out, swirling the liquid in his glass with no real interest. As much as he wanted to be infuriated with Jack Crawford, and he was infuriated, he had no right to be. What Jack was putting Will through was no worse than the track that Hannibal had committed himself to at the medical center just hours previous. Between the two of them, Will was going to be shredded apart and a piece of Hannibal would forever be curious to follow that path and watch the outcome unfold. </p><p>Jack sighed with a roll of his eyes, as if he didn’t want to admit that fact. “Yes. He is. I mean, Will is genuine. He'll survive anything I could put him through.” There was so much conviction in the words that Hannibal was sure that that was how Jack always managed to scrape by. He knew how to talk. He used his words and tone to his advantage and he knew exactly what he was doing. “He will always fight his way back to himself.” </p><p>“Not always. So far,” Hannibal argued, eyes meeting Jack’s gaze. The dark pools looked far more irritated than concerned and Hannibal’s jaw clenched at the idea of the one person who was meant to be looking out for Will not caring in the slightest just so long as he got his bad guy. “He saw a neurologist today.” </p><p>“I didn’t know he had come home yet.”</p><p>Hannibal ignored the comment. “They found nothing wrong with him. He was very upset by that.”</p><p>“You're saying he wanted something to be wrong?” There was finally some interest in Jack's tone. </p><p>“I think he wanted an answer that wasn't mental illness,” Hannibal supplied. </p><p>“You think he's mentally ill.” It wasn’t a question and Jack nodded as if agreeing with his own statement. </p><p>“The problem Will has is too many mirror neurons.” It wasn’t a lie. It was the reason why Will had his empathy disorder. Why Will became other people and why Will didn’t know himself. “Our heads are filled with them when we are children. Supposed to help us socialize</p><p>and then melt away. But Will held on to his, which makes knowing who he is a challenge.”  Jack stayed silent, a finger absently circling the rim of his glass. When it was clear Jack wasn’t going to speak, Hannibal continued. “When you take him to a crime scene, Jack, the very air has screams smeared on it. In those places, he doesn't just reflect, he absorbs.”</p><p>“I take it that Will’s first stop when he returned was to see you,” Jack stated, effectively dismissing Hannibal’s words and only causing Hannibal to dislike the man that much more. What would it take for Jack to finally take his and Alana’s warnings seriously? “So, why do you think Will Graham came back to see you?”</p><p>“I'm sure he recognizes the necessity of his own support structure if he is to go on supporting you in the field,” Hannibal shot back, keeping his words level despite the fact that he wanted the words to be barbed and to hurt. </p><p>“Well, I believe that a guy like Will Graham knows exactly what's going on inside of his head, which is why he doesn't want anyone else up there.” </p><p>“Are you not accustomed to broken ponies in your stable?” Hannibal bit back his accusations the best that he could, grip on his glass only tightening. </p><p>“You think Will Graham's a broken pony?” Jack asked back in confusion. </p><p>“I think you think Will is a broken pony,” Hannibal corrected, only to find his words were still not getting through to the stubborn man. Maybe a different tactic would wake the man up more. “Have you ever lost a pony, Jack?” </p><p><em>Jack, it’s Miriam. I don’t know where I am,</em> her frightened words called somewhere in the back of Hannibal’s mind. <em>I can’t see anything. I was so wrong. I was so wrong! Please, Jack, please. I don’t want to die like this.</em></p><p>If only Hannibal were in a position to play that recording for the man. If only he could make Jack see exactly what he did to the people he used for his own gains. And normally Hannibal wouldn’t have cared. Jack could fritter away any life he wanted, but there was something about the man having his fingers in Will’s head that only made Hannibal want to be that more protective of the boy. No one’s hands but his were going to hurt Will and he would make sure of that, even if it meant destroying Will in the process. </p><p>“If you're asking me whether or not I've ever lost someone in the field, the answer is yes. Why?” </p><p>“I want to understand why you're so delicate with Will.” The words were sarcastic, but Jack didn’t seem to take notice. Jack wasn’t being delicate, he wasn’t being careful, he wasn’t being kind. “Because you don't trust him, or because you're afraid of losing another pony?”</p><p>“I've already had my psych eval,” Jack quickly disassociated with a grin. </p><p>“Not by me.” </p>
<hr/><p>When Hannibal stepped back into his house, the tinkering of keys filled the space and Hannibal let out a deep breath that he had been holding since he had left Jack Crawford’s office, very much more annoyed and road blocked than making any actual headway with Will’s health. </p><p>But the notes, though the intonation left much to be desired, eased the stress in his body and he stepped towards his study to find Will sat at his harpsichord. One arm was still up in the sling and the other was at the keys. Will was slouched forward on the bench, nose nearly touching the sheet music before him and his head kept jerking up and down from the sheet music to his hand to make sure he was hitting the right notes, which he very much wasn’t. </p><p>Hannibal could still pick out the tune without looking at the sheet music though. Bach’s Goldberg Variations, the aria to be more specific. Hannibal pulled his coat from his shoulders and draped it over his arm before stepping into the room. Will sat up a bit straighter and glanced over his shoulder with an embarrassed smile before returning his attention to the instrument. </p><p>“I thought you were supposed to be in bed,” Hannibal stated and there was a laugh. </p><p>“And I thought you were supposed to only be checking on my dogs. You’ve been gone for far longer than three hours,” Will shot back happily, fingers shaking as they waited for the command to move to the next note while Will struggled to read the next note. </p><p>“C sharp,” Hannibal offered, finally coming to stand beside the empath to better watch his struggles. There was another embarrassed laugh and Will nodded, hitting C and then quickly correcting it, only causing Hannibal to smile. “I stopped by to see Jack on my way home.” </p><p>The playing came to a stop and Will’s back straightened before weary blue eyes looked up. “You did,” Will stated weakly. </p><p>“You know Will...” Hannibal inhaled deeply before slowly lowering himself onto the bench beside Will, his right hand reaching out to play the opening lines of the aria. “I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup.” There was a hint of a smile on Will’s lips as he rested himself against Hannibal, head letting itself fall onto Hannibal’s shoulder. “The finest china used for only special guests.” </p><p>There was a laugh from Will that quickly turned into a gasp, with a hand yet again finding his opposite shoulder. Will caught his breath and sighed. “I think I feel more like an old mug. How do you see me?” </p><p>“The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.” </p><p>Will sat up with a confused furrow to his brows. “You really- never mind,” Will muttered, shaking his head. Hannibal eyed the man carefully, noting how that was the second time that day that Will had corrected himself from saying something. “I’m glad you came back. I missed you.” It was a weak excuse, but Hannibal decided to let it go. </p><p>“I missed you too,” Hannibal whispered, receiving a smile from Will. “You seem to be feeling better.” </p><p>“Eh,” Will answered with a single shoulder shrug. “I’ve been better, that’s for sure. But right now isn’t so bad, I suppose.” </p><p>“Did you get any sleep while I was away, dear boy?” Hannibal let his hand drop from the harpsichord and he turned to more fully look at Will. Exhaustion was still present on his person, but his eyes were a bit brighter than they had been. </p><p>“A little. I was worried that in the few hours that they have been left alone that my couch cushions are no more.” The tease was light and pleasant and once more a guilt was welling up in Hannibal. He needed to tell Will. Even if Will was only playing Hannibal, if this ended with Hannibal locked up for the rest of his life, he had to let Will know why his mind wasn’t his own. “You don’t feel quite so distant anymore. That’s nice.” Will’s fingers found the keys once more, plunking out the melody before hitting that same wrong note again. </p><p>“C sharp, Will,” Hannibal muttered with a chuckle. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Will’s temple that was still fevered, but nothing like it had been the night before. Hannibal got to his feet and made his way to the front closet to hang up his coat. The music stopped and there were uneven footsteps behind Hannibal. </p><p>“Were you up all night?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal dismissed easily, closing the closet door and turning back to find Will a bit closer than he thought the man would be. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” </p><p>“You have no need to apologize.” Hannibal glanced at the watch on his wrist and nodded as he took in the time. “It’s rather late. Would you like to have some of the soup we didn’t get the chance to enjoy last night?” </p><p>“It doesn’t have noodles,” Will pointed out with a scrunching of his nose in dislike. </p><p>Hannibal sighed, a hand reaching up to rub at his burning and tired eyes. “If you desperately need noodles added, I wi-” </p><p>“Do you have bowties or shells?” Hannibal lowered his hand and was greeted with a smug smile. “I’m teasing. I don’t need noodles.” Will took a step closer, right hand reaching up to take Hannibal’s chin. “You are so easy to get worked up. How am I the only one who's ever found you?” Will pulled Hannibal down and gave him a swift kiss before releasing Hannibal’s chin to turn towards the kitchen. </p><p>“You’re far different from anyone else,” Hannibal mumbled, following after the limping man. “For better or for worse.”</p><p>Will snickered with a shake of his head, making his curls bounce lightly. “Careful, Hannibal. You sound like you might want to marry me.” </p><p>“If I plan to marry you, dear boy, I assure you, you will know.” Hannibal hid his smile at the small stumble in the man’s steps and Will glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes. They were nowhere near such a stage in their relationship, even if their steps had all been taken greatly out of order. It also didn’t matter if maybe that would have come about in the future. Not now after that phone call with Jack. Hannibal had to be more on guard than he ever had been. He couldn’t risk a slip up now and that included making sure that he and Will didn’t move quicker than what was natural between them. “Is everything alright, dear boy?” </p><p>Will gave a small nod and turned away from Hannibal without a wood, making his way through the door to the kitchen. Hannibal reheated some of the soup on the stovetop and dinner was eaten in silence at the bar in the kitchen instead of in the dining room, Will looking far too exhausted to attempt to move him. </p><p>Hannibal let the silence continue on until Will finally lied his head on the counter with a yawn. Hannibal reached out and brushed back a few unruly curls that had fallen and covered up Will’s face. </p><p>“Bed,” Hannibal instructed. “Now.” </p><p>“No,” Will argued around another yawn, his eyes holding a sheen of tears when they opened again. “I’m afraid of what lives behind my eyelids.” </p><p>“There aren’t any more killers that you’re chasing at the moment that require your revoltingly undivided attention.” Will’s brows furrowed together in question, the action only knocking his curls back into his face. Hannibal once more bushed them back. “You do not have to let them invade your mind Will. They do not need your attention. They will be silent if you tell them to be.” </p><p>Will looked as if he didn’t believe a single word that Hannibal had said, but he didn’t fight when Hannibal cleared away their dishes and then stood at his side, waiting patiently for the man to move. </p><p>Will’s movements were ungraceful and nearly drunk as he got back to his feet. He caught himself against the counter and Hannibal took a step closer in case Will’s legs wouldn't hold him when he tried to walk. The first few steps were shaky and Will kept his arm outstretched for balance until he could find his footing. That didn’t stop Hannibal from staying close enough to snatch Will if the moment arose. </p><p>The stairs were a slow hike to the top of Everest, the railing tagline kept firmly in hand until the summit. It was at the top of the stairs that Will finally crumbled. His hand went to his head and he tipped too far to one side and Hannibal swiftly got between Will and his Khumbu Icefall. </p><p>“I think you’ve had enough for today, Will,” Hannibal muttered as he guided Will’s right arm around his shoulders before finding a grip under Will’s knees and around his middle to scoop him from the floor. Will was lighter than Hannibal had imagined him to be while nearly deadweight from how weak he was. Will’s grip around his shoulders tightened in an attempt to help, but Hannibal didn’t necessarily need it. Hannibal carried Will the rest of the way to his room and lowered Will into the bed. He made sure a pillow was supporting Will’s shoulder and then his hand went to Will’s forehead. His fever had returned with a vengeance. “I need you to take some medicine for me when I come back, alright?” he asked quietly and received a nod from Will who looked already lost in sleep. </p><p>Hannibal straightened himself back upright and took the half-drunk glass of water on the nightstand to the bathroom to refill. Hannibal wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He didn’t know what was making him help Will when he had basically, wordlessly, threatened Donald Sutcliffe to not do a single thing in Will’s favor. Hannibal needed to let Will’s fever burn him up from the inside out. A natural sickness that would take care of his problem for him was a god sent, but that didn’t stop his hands from picking up the pill bottle and shaking out two pills. That didn’t stop him from filling up the glass with cold water. That didn’t stop him from taking the items back to the beside. </p><p>“Will, sit up,” Hannibal ordered, receiving a disliking groan, but Will slowly obeyed at a glacial pace. Hannibal handed him the items and rose from the bed, only stopping at his name being whispered. “Yes Will?” he asked, turning back around to the man whose slinged hand held the glass of water and his free held the two white pills in his open palm. </p><p>“You didn’t sleep last night. You’ll stay right and rest with me, right?” </p><p>The question was so innocent, like a child prompting their parent to remember a promise the parent had made without actually realizing what they had committed to. Will tipped his hand back, taking both pills at the same time and chased them down with the water. </p><p>Hannibal sighed. The boy had a point. Hannibal might have felt fine at the moment, but if he didn’t find rest soon then it would disrupt his whole life in much the same way that Will had taken a sledgehammer to it. And yet Hannibal kept the man in his foyer, allowing the man to destroy the entrance to the house in a fit because none of the enigmas to the doors would open for him. </p><p>“I will be right with you,” Hannibal answered softly. Will nodded and set the glass of water aside before laying back down on the bed. Hannibal watched him for a moment as the boy relaxed himself into the bed as if it were his own, his arm once more finding Hannibal’s pillow and holding it tightly to his chest. </p><p>Hannibal couldn’t help but smile fondly at the monster in his bed. He had found a monster of beauty and strength in Will at the beginning. He was akin to a stag. A king in his own right. A protector of creatures who were worthy, an animal of power, sensitivity, intuition and gentleness. But instead of a coat of fur, Will was covered in a black plumage like a raven with a croaking call and diet of carrion. He was ill omen and loss. He was prophecy and insight. He was the bringer of primordial darkness and the psychopomp all at once. </p><p>Hannibal had fallen for all of it. Every last pretty word that Will had said in the space between them, the conviction so real and perfectly said to catch Hannibal hook, line and sinker. He hated it. Every moment they had spent together had been done in a single manipulation and Hannibal could not allow himself to let it go even if Will was just as Will always had been. Will had always been a monster, but now the monster was made to ensnare Hannibal instead of others. </p><p>Will wouldn’t hurt him. Not in any physical sense of the word. Oh no. Will’s justice wouldn’t come in the form of a mural or tapestry, it would come with metal bars and handcuffs. It would be just as beautiful as the rest of Will’s kills, if they had actually occurred in the first place, but Hannibal wouldn’t allow himself to be turned into one of Will’s art projects. That wasn’t his fate. He wouldn’t fall victim to Will’s design, but he could pretend for just a little longer that maybe Will had been telling the truth. </p><p>Maybe Will hadn’t lied when he said that his conversation with Jack was simply him playing the sides. Maybe Will really was on his side, but until he saw some actual proof then he had to play the fence too. </p><p>But maybe that could wait until morning. Maybe he could suspend his insecurities until the light of the sun peeked through his bedroom windows. Maybe he could allow himself this small reprieve, this small moment where he didn’t have to think about anyone else or be the mask that he had sewn on so completely that it was more of a full body suit now. </p><p>He got changed and finished his nightly routine before heading to the side of the bed that Will was not occupying and climbed in under the blankets, closing his eyes and listening to Will’s gentle snoring beside him. A sound far more relaxed than it had sounded the night before when they were battling his mind. </p><p>Hannibal was nearly asleep, the exhaustion of having not slept the night before finally catching up with him, but a slight change in the pattern in Will’s breathing brought him back from the edge. His eyes flickered open and he was met with heavy-lidded blue eyes. </p><p>“I stole your side of the bed, haven’t I?” Will asked in a whisper that was husky and felt a little too big for the room they were in. Hannibal could feel the corners of his lips pick up and he let his eyes close once more with a deep breath through his nose. </p><p>“That’s quite alright, dear boy,” he answered in just as small of a whisper. “You have stolen my pillow as well, but I will survive a single night without it.” </p><p>There was a snicker from Will and Hannibal opened his eyes once more to find Will looking up at the dark ceiling. “I’m sorry. It smelt like you.” Hannibal watched the grip on the pillow still held to Will’s chest tighten. “But I suppose I don’t need it if you’re beside me.” Will’s smile was bright, even in the dark. “I promise to give the pillow back to you if you’ll hold me.” </p><p>“Hold you?” Hannibal repeated, pushing himself up onto his arm, unsure if he had heard the words correctly. Will held the pillow over to Hannibal who stared at it, unsure what he was exactly meant to do with it. The smile from Will was softer now, almost a challenge, waiting to see exactly what Hannibal was going to do. “What about your arm?” </p><p>Will gave a single shoulder shrug, pulling the pillow back and tucking it against his chest once more. His attention turned back to the ceiling before his eyes slid closed. “If you aren’t comfortable with that, you can say so,” Will muttered. “It’s not like you’re required to do that. I just thought that since you’ve pretty much seen me at my worst, my snoring in your ear wouldn’t be the most outrageous thing to happen to you.” </p><p>Hannibal held back a chuckle and reached out a hand to gently brush his fingertips over Will’s cheek. Will glanced back over and rolled his eyes. Hannibal didn’t move closer though. He wasn’t sure what this particular move would mean between the two of them. </p><p>Waking up tangled together had been one thing, but making the conscious decision held enough weight to it that it kept Hannibal chained to his new side of the bed. Will’s eyes watched him carefully, waiting for there to be more, but when nothing came he let his eyes flutter shut and the grip on the pillow tighten.</p><p>“Good night, Doctor Lecter,” he whispered, a slight disappointment to his tone, but he didn’t pull from Hannibal’s still carefully trailing fingers. Instead, he leaned into them and Hannibal inhaled and exhaled deeply. Hannibal moved closer to Will and rested beside him, one arm carefully draping itself over Will’s middle and around his own pillow. “Doctor-” </p><p>“Hush,” Hannibal instructed, something warm lighting up his body to the point where he wasn’t sure if he would be able to find sleep anymore. Without the aftershave or cologne, Will smelled faintly of forest, though some of the scent was masked under Hannibal’s own soaps from the shower that Will had taken and the fevered sweetness of his infection. Hannibal carefully eased himself into Will’s side, doing his best not to jostle the position that Will had his shoulder. He placed a kiss to Will’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “Go to sleep. You need rest.” </p><p>“Before that, we need to talk.” </p><p>“About what?” Hannibal questioned with a small sigh, only wanting to sleep himself. His body was stiff and sore and his eyes burned from his lack of sleep the night before. His limbs were heavy and the woodsy scent of Will was cozy. </p><p>“Everything.” </p><p>“That’s a rather vast concept, Will. I assure you that the idea of everything can wait until morning.” There was a chuckle that Hannibal could feel rumble out under the pillow his arm was draped over and Will’s shoulder moved against his cheek. Hannibal sighed and opened his eyes, the empath obviously far too awake now to be bothered with the idea of sleep. “What do you want to talk about?” </p><p>“We will be discussing your petulant behavior when you return,” Will quoted with a grin and an accent that quickly faded from something not quite so Lithuanian and into something more southern. “Let’s discuss.” </p><p>Hannibal was silent for a moment, thinking over the words that somehow didn’t hold quite the same meaning to them anymore. Not when Will was injured and kept so far away from him for what felt like a lifetime and maybe that was more than dramatic. Absolutely overtly dramatic, but it didn’t make the sentiment any less real and any less painful in Hannibal’s body. Even if this was fake and would come crashing down around him in the morning, that didn’t stop the fact that Will was wholly and completely dear to him. </p><p>He could pretend for the present that Jack wasn’t breathing down their necks. That Alana wasn’t right in saying that Jack was grooming Will to catch the Ripper. That he wasn’t going to do the same thing back to Jack the moment he had more reason to doubt Will. He could pretend that maybe, just maybe, there was someone since his sister that he could give a little more of himself over to. </p><p>It would hurt in the morning, but maybe that was the pain he needed to finally wake up from this. He needed something to hurt so that he wouldn’t drown in Will Graham anymore. It wouldn’t stop him from thinking over the empath and it absolutely wouldn’t stop the way that he couldn’t keep his heartbeat steady whenever the man’s name was simply mentioned, but it sure as hell would help keep him away.</p><p><em>I hate this,</em> Hannibal’s mind screamed at him, the words echoing all throughout his mind palace, down corridors and up staircases and through chapels. <em>I hate all of this. I don’t know what I want, but it isn’t you. I refuse to believe it’s you. </em></p><p>Hannibal pushed himself up on his elbow and looked over the investigator’s face in the dim moonlight that came in through the curtains of his windows. Will’s skin was paler when soaked in moonbeams and the bruises looked permanently etched in his skin and Hannibal found that he didn’t quite mind the idea, though he wished he had been the one to put them there. </p><p>Blue eyes flickered over his face curiously and Hannibal’s hand unconsciously reached out, brushing those god damn curls from his face. Curls that Hannibal would miss running his fingers through. Eyes that he would miss seeing. Fingers that he would miss brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck and caressing over his cheek. Calloused and rough fingers that were so gentle in their manipulation to pull Hannibal downwards. </p><p>Hannibal followed their guidance until he was able to press his lips to Will’s, hand cupping Will’s cheek to keep the man in place as if Will would leave. Will wouldn’t leave. Not when his job depended on it. Not when catching the Ripper was the end goal of this. Not when Will was the perfect lure. </p><p>“You’re childish,” Hannibal muttered between kisses that were quickly building to something a little more hungry, kisses that Will returned wholeheartedly. “Reckless.” Each word was accented with a kiss. “Careless. Impulsive. Indiscreet and extremely emotional.” Hannibal pulled back to catch his breath and was met with a husky laugh. </p><p>“If I knew this conversation involved something physical, I would have let us discuss this in your office.” Will’s voice was teasing and pulled at Hannibal’s chest all that much more. He could pretend. That’s what he had done his whole life, so what was one more night? </p><p>“It’s physical because I doubt I have the vocabulary needed in any language to express how relieved I am that you’re safe.” Hannibal was swift to steal Will’s lips again, something sweet in their taste. Something delightful in that realness that Hannibal swore was there. The same realness that was there before Will’s phone conversation. A realness he so wanted to trust and fall into, but he wasn’t about to let himself. This was all it was and this was all it was ever going to be. </p><p>“Safe,” Will repeated breathlessly as his fingers tangled painfully tight in Hannibal’s hair. “Not sure what you mean by safe. I’m covered in stitches and bruises and my mind is trying to implode on itself.” </p><p>Will’s skin was still lightly fevered as Hannibal pressed kisses to his jawline, enjoying the man’s stubble against his lips. “You returned in one piece. You came back to me.” </p><p>There was a gasp from Will’s lips at a kiss just under the back of his jaw and his head tipped back, allowing Hannibal room to continue whatever he was doing. Hannibal kept his eyes closed as he once more kissed that same place, feeling the way that Will’s pulse quickened just under his skin. </p><p>The little sounds that Will let escape into the air were so breathless that Hannibal wondered if Will even knew he made them. Soft whining while the fingers in Hannibal’s hair were anything but soft. </p><p>“Hannibal.” A whimper at a kiss against his blood flow and Hannibal was curious if Will was suddenly aware of his mortality at this moment. It would be so easy to end this now. All Hannibal had to do was sink his teeth into Will’s flesh and tear at his throat. The cleanup wouldn’t be ideal, but Will’s life soaking his bedding until it was crimson and making it so his room would light up like New York City with luminol only reinforced the idea as a viable option, if only for its beauty. To test the idea, teeth nipped lightly at the vein and Will shuttered with a painful inhale. “Hannibal, please.” </p><p>“Scared?” Hannibal asked back before kissing the pulse once more. He could hear Will wet his lips and feel the shake of his head. </p><p>“Of you? No,” he whispered. “Never.” </p><p>Hannibal chuckled and sat up to meet icy blue eyes. “I would suggest rethinking that. Especially if you’re going to continue to kill instinctively every time I upset you.” </p><p>Will didn’t answer for a moment. He simply played with the hair at the nape of Hannibal’s neck, eyes distant. “It really was a petty kill, wasn’t it?” he finally asked into the space between them, eyes focusing on Hannibal. “I was so upset with you. I told you that I’ve never let anyone in this close before. Being shut down when I’ve let you see me was terrifying. I close off and lash out to protect myself.” </p><p>“It’s a shame you’ve never let anyone in close. Not even Beverly.” </p><p>It was a conscious decision to bring up the woman and the hard look from Will was unpredictable. There wasn’t anger there, but something unhappy with the fact being raised. Will sighed and chewed on his tongue for a moment before nodding. </p><p>“I’ve tried. I’ve told her about my dad. She doesn’t believe me. Says it's my guilt or something.” </p><p>“You’re not guilty.” </p><p>Will snorted and shook his head. His finger left Hannibal’s hair and Hannibal let them gently pet down his neck before the motion was repeated. “He deserved it,” Will muttered decidedly, though there was no harshness there. No bite to the words. His father was simply just another number added to the statistics of that town’s death rate. His father was nothing more to him than the rude were to Hannibal. They were pigs, they were beneath them, they deserved exactly what was coming for them. “They have all deserved it.” </p><p>“And this spineless message. Did she deserve it?” Hannibal asked carefully, pulling them back on topic. </p><p>There was no hesitancy in Will’s words. “Yes.” Will exhaled deeply, fingers stopping in their trailing of Hannibal’s neck, though they didn’t leave Hannibal, he simply moved to the collar of his nightshirt and rubbed the fabric between his digits. “Hit and run. Mother and two children dead.” </p><p>“And how did you locate her, dear boy?” </p><p>Will licked his lips. “There was some choppy cell phone footage of the crash. The person recording got the accident and the woman driving was seen scribbling something on a piece of paper before tossing it from the window and driving off. Just a note on the back of a losing lottery ticket saying I’m sorry.” The words were bitter as they left Will’s mouth and Will’s eyes flickered from the collar he had pulled out of shape and back to Hannibal’s face. “Been tracking gas stations in the area and found her in one of them. The footage looked like her and she had signed a receipt for the clerk. Handwriting matched.” </p><p>“I thought that handwriting analysis was seen like blood splatter analysis,” Hannibal muttered, curiosity pulling at his head. “It’s discredited, isn’t it? Weren’t there a bunch of scandals about it?” </p><p>Will shrugged with his good shoulder. “They’re both admissible in court even though there’s no real science to back them up. But they aren’t incorrect in what they’re trying to prove. A person is going to write their words and individual letters in a similar fashion each time they write. They won’t be perfect, that’s not possible, but they’ll be pretty fucking close. Just like anything that has to do with blood splatter. If you stab someone and raise the knife up, it’s going to get blood on whatever is in front of you and what’s possibly above you. And passive blood splatter is going to look different from transfer blood splatter or projectile blood splatter. Even you know that a sliced artery leaves a very different mess than a papercut does.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a thoughtful nod at the answer given to him. Will was correct. The foundation that the ideas were based on did have their basis set in truth. It was a matter of testing the ideas. But that didn’t seem to be too big of an issue for the court systems if they still allowed such items to be used in their courtrooms without question. </p><p>“And the skull?” Hannibal asked after a moment. </p><p>Will’s smile picked up at the corner smugly and his eyes glittered. “I worked hard on that one. It took days to take care of her. Would you like to know?” </p><p>“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t,” Hannibal reminded coolly, eyes glancing over Will’s features to try to categorize them. There was no lie in them, but maybe that was just because it was dark and Hannibal couldn’t fully see his face. And his words were said with such a firm belief that Hannibal couldn’t help but trust them as much as he didn’t want to and didn’t think they were real. There was something else in him, that small voice in the back of his head that he was able to keep quiet save for when Will was around, telling him that Will was telling the truth. “Who was the skull?”</p><p>“There was this case I found on the internet, through some chat forums. Something that not even the FBI has picked up on. Not even the police thought that it was viable enough to check out.” Will’s grin was bright now, that same dazzling that it was in Hannibal’s office before Will had left. A smile that Hannibal took to mean that Will was overly happy. “There’s been a string of suicides where the people have been told to kill themselves by hanging. The person suggesting these things always has a different user name, but the way that the person explains how to hang oneself was practically copy and pasted to each person, nearly word for word. And the person always claims that it's the best way and they know because they’re a nurse. They would also video chat with the person right before they died. They would watch the person kill themselves, Hannibal.” </p><p>“And you thought it was one person,” Hannibal supplied carefully. </p><p>Will gave a nod, fingers once more petting down Hannibal’s neck. “I proved it was one person. The usernames were all different, but the IP address was the same.”</p><p>“You hacked them?” </p><p>There was a small laugh. “It’s not a difficult thing to do if you know how computers work and what programs to download.” Will bit his lip, blue eyes bright when they met Hannibal’s gaze. “You’re making yourself sound old.” </p><p>“I know how a computer works, Will,” Hannibal scolded lightly with a roll of his eyes that only made Will laugh before biting his bottom lip between his teeth once more. </p><p>“You know that shrugging and rolling your eyes don’t really fit you, right?” Will asked after another quiet moment of looking over Hannibal’s person. The concept struck Hannibal as odd. Though the movements weren’t done by him often, they held their place and he was certain the action had fit there. “They’re beneath you. They don’t fit the elegance and charm you put out to the world.” </p><p>“I don’t need to hide behind elegance and charm with you, do I?” Hannibal challenged and Will shook his head in answer. Hannibal’s lips tipped up in a smile. He could believe that, but he wasn’t about to. “Please continue.” </p><p>“I found out who they were and catfished them back.” The answer was simple. Easy enough as if it were something that Will did constantly. “Said that I wanted to die and would die by hanging if they agreed to meet in person.” </p><p>“No one is going to know who it was, are they?” </p><p>“Unless there’s dental records, but as far as I could find there weren’t any. I might have missed something though. They had a few fake IDs that were decently made and it took me some time to dig through all of them. Or if they can somehow find DNA and the person is already in the system, but I doubt it.”</p><p>“How did you do all of that without someone finding out?” Hannibal asked curiously, a hand reaching up to stop Will’s constant movements that were starting to irritate his neck. He kissed Will’s knuckles and held the hand, giving it a small squeeze. </p><p>“I don’t do any of this at home, Hannibal.” Will gave a scoff, though his smile didn’t fall. “I don’t have internet as an excuse to not have to take Jack’s work home with me. And I have a VPN on my phone if I’m ever stupid enough to use it to do that type of work.” </p><p>“I doubt that a VPN would-”</p><p>“VPN can’t be traced live. A warrant would have to be obtained and then they would have to go through my service provider to obtain that information if they truly wanted to know anything. And with what I do with my line of work, that kind of stuff is looked up on my phone constantly. They wouldn’t even bat an eye at it,” Will’s words were quick and excited. “And it’s not like I use my work computer for any of this either. I use public computers and data biases.” </p><p>“That’s still not-”</p><p>“I have devices that can redirect my internet traffic to different locations as well as my own firewalls and proxy servers. It’s not all that complicated, especially if you know all of the tricks that the FBI uses to catch people.” </p><p>Will sat up and stole a kiss from Hannibal, something light and chaste before he lied back down on the bed with a small breath. He closed his eyes with a happy little smile and gave Hannibal’s hand a squeeze. </p><p>“You cleaned the bones meticulously,” Hannibal pointed out with a small breath. </p><p>“My dad taught me how to do it to deer. I figured it worked the same way.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a small nod. Will wasn’t just the lure, he could be the smoking gun as well. He was just full of surprises. Each new little bit of information learned only proved just how much more dangerous Will was, how fake that anxiety ridden man truly was. Hannibal didn’t doubt that the anxiety was really there, that Will did suffer from it and did have episodes of extremely debilitating trepidation, but it wasn’t the teacher turned active field agent. </p><p>“The scent of bleach wasn’t strong. I thought you bleached the bones to make them that white.” </p><p>Will shook his head. “Bleach can make the bones weak, turn them to dust. You simmer the bones in a pot of water with some dish soap and a little borax. The dish soap and borax help pull the oils from the bones, but you have to be careful because borax will act like bleach and powder the bones.”</p><p>“And how long did it take you to boil them?” </p><p>“All day. You have to be careful with it. You don’t want it damaged and if there’s still oil in the bones, they’ll start to smell and turn yellow.” Will’s nose scrunched up at the words and Hannibal couldn’t stop a smile from covering his lips as he placed another kiss to Will’s hand. </p><p>“And how did you get it so white?” Hannibal pressed softly. </p><p>“Hair bleach.” It was said once more with an air of ease, as if it was the most common knowledge in the world and Hannibal should have known it all long. “You mix the powder with the developer and coat the bones in it. You let it dry and then you use a spray bottle to spray a little bit of bleach over the hair product and it reactivates the hair product as well as helps whiten without destroying the bones. You do that a few times, letting it dry in between. That took me about two days. And once you wash it, you let it dry and then I covered it in an acrylic, just to make sure it wouldn’t yellow.” </p><p>“And the thirteen on the skull?” Hannibal asked, voice a whisper as he leaned a little more over Will. Will’s eyes flickered curiously over him. “You felt betrayed, didn’t you? Like I took a knife to you.” </p><p>“It’s pathetic,” Will muttered with a pained smile. “I just wanted to hear it so badly. I didn’t need to hear it. I could feel the truth with my empathy, but I’ve never felt things as strongly as I do around you. I told you that your voice has always been the loudest.” </p><p>“What exactly did you want me to say if you already knew the truth?” Hannibal let his forehead rest against Will’s, their hands curled up on Will’s chest and Hannibal did his best to stay conscious of Will’s body so he didn’t hurt Will more than he already was. </p><p>“You’ve already told me that you adore me. I don’t need more than that,” Will muttered, tipping his head up so their breath tangled together, something hot between them. “That’s all I wanted, Hannibal. A reassurance that looking to you to be the bedrock of my personality wasn’t a poor choice on my side. It would be kinder to kill me than for that to be a lie.” </p><p>“You wouldn’t want me to kill you, Will,” Hannibal warned, letting their lips skim against each other without really touching. Will let out a small whimper at the contact, but didn’t push closer. </p><p>“Tell me.” Will commanded gently. “How would you do it?” </p><p>Hannibal released Will's hand and slipped his hand up Will’s chest until he could close his palm and fingers around Will’s throat. “With my hands,” Hannibal answered in a whisper. There was a moan from Will, who arched up and met Hannibal’s mouth with his own. Hannibal returned the kiss, caressing Will’s throat before allowing his fingers to find both jugular veins in his neck. His thumb caressed one and his index and middle caressed the other. Will didn’t seem frightened by the touch though. He leaned up into it as if in welcome and Hannibal swiftly drew back, breathing hard to meet hazy, yet confused eyes. “You aren’t going to give yourself over to cerebral anoxia tonight, Will.” </p><p>Will’s hand reached up and brushed over Hannibal’s that was still poised at Will’s neck, fingers detecting every pulse from Will’s blood. “It can wait until morning,” Will whispered with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry I was so reckless with that last kill. It’s not fair to you. You’re right. I was being childish.” </p><p>There was a small sense of relief in Hannibal’s body and he gave Will another short kiss. “I’m sorry for not being open about my feelings, dear boy.” Will’s smile was warm before a yawn wiped it away. “Sleep,” he instructed, the next kiss going to Will’s forehead. “The rest of everything can wait until morning.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”<br/>― Madeline Miller, the Song of Achilles</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this chapter is a bit smaller. Kinda threw myself into poor Will with how sick I've been and it's the first time I've ever had to be sick by myself and let me tell you that it is not fun to deal with it on your own. Haha. Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter!</p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<hr/><p> </p><p>The sound was muffled and on the edge of his consciousness. Hannibal pushed it away, trying to allow sleep to once more pull him under, but another louder and less dampened noise dragged him all the way to the surface. </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes flickered open in the dark room and rested on Will who was squirming about, head thrashing from side to side. Another whimper left the boy and Hannibal sat up fully, reaching out to turn on the bedside table lamp before looking over the man who was tangled up in silk sheets, shirt damp with sweat. Will’s curls clung to his head and his hand was fisted into the bed. </p><p>“No,” Will muttered out in a broken voice. “No.” </p><p>Another nightmare. </p><p>Hannibal hadn’t realized how many a single person could have until he had met Will. He also hadn’t realized how vivid nightmares truly could be until he met Will. Will was always a first. Will was always unpredictable. Will was always special. His night terrors were no different. </p><p>Hannibal reached out a hand and brushed it through Will’s sweaty curls, body radiating heat so strongly that Hannibal didn’t even need to touch the profiler to feel it. His fever was back in full strength and Hannibal sighed, both sides of his mind tugging on him. One telling him to help Will and the other telling him to sit and observe exactly what would happen if he just left Will as he was. </p><p>If this had been anyone else in the world, Hannibal would have stood by as an innocent bystander and let the fever take its course. He would watch as the heat slowly burned the man alive from the inside out. Take note as an infinitely brilliant mind turned itself into a puddled, irreparable mess. If this had been anyone else. Alana, Jack, Donald, Franklyn, especially Franklyn, or even Bedelia would have fallen victim to Hannibal’s little study. He would have happily done nothing, but this wasn’t Alana or Jack or Donald, thankfully it wasn’t Franklyn, and it undoubtedly wasn’t Bedelia. </p><p>This was Will. His Will. The Will who had ungracefully barged his way into Hannibal’s life with coffee drowned lungs, wonderfully dissected hands, musically poisoned swans and betraying spineless galleries. The same Will who wore fake glasses and only made eye contact with him. The same Will who was Jack’s perfectly crafted lure for Hannibal and god did that hurt. </p><p>It cut so deeply. It ached like a phantom limb, a limb that Hannibal was going to have to remove eventually just as he had done when he was younger. He needed the pain. He welcomed it. It would only make all of this easier, but like everything else, it could wait until morning. </p><p>“Will,” he called out, hand still brushing through Will’s curls. “Will, wake up.” </p><p>Will’s eyes snapped open, darting about the room and Hannibal watched as his breathing came in large gulps as if he had been trapped underwater. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he licked at his lips before sitting up and shoving away Hannibal’s hand. </p><p>“Don’t touch me,” Will hissed, pushing himself from the bed and to his feet. </p><p>Hannibal watched in a stunned silence as Will limped his way to the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving a sweaty imprint in the sheets. Out of all of the nightmares that he had sat through with Will, none of them were met with that amount of hostility. Will had curled up against Hannibal and silently cried himself back to sleep each time. </p><p>Hannibal got from his bed and made his way over to the bathroom door, looking down at the light that was pouring out from under the door and across the shadowed hardwood floor. He was about to knock when there was a retching sound from the other side of the wood, followed by coughing. </p><p>“Will?” Hannibal called through the door. He reached out for the door handle and turned it to find it locked. </p><p>“I’m-” There was another gagging sound followed by vomiting and a small sob. “-fine.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply, the scent from the other side of the door sour and hot. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “Open the door, Will,” he instructed as kindly as he could. “I can’t help out here.” </p><p>“I’m fine,” was protested once more before Will emptied his stomach again. </p><p>Hannibal took a small step back, hand reaching up and above to the door frame where he felt along it before he found the small key there. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, making sure the key was back in place before he stepped into the room, the scent only that much stronger now that it hit him full force. </p><p>Will was on his knees in submission to his body, his arm still in the sling resting on the bowl of the toilet, while the other propped him up on the floor. Bloodshot and teary eyes met Hannibal momentarily before he heaved again. </p><p>Snot poured from the man’s nose and mixed with the mess on his chin and if this hadn’t been something common that Hannibal had learned to deal with early on in his medical career, he was sure he would have felt his own stomach lurching. </p><p>Instead, he made his way over to Will and knelt down beside the man, whose body was trembling beneath clothing that clung to his skin with sweat. Hannibal hesitated but reached out a hand, pulling Will’s curls back from his face while his other soothed over Will’s back in circular patterns. </p><p>“I’m not a-I’m not a child,” Will grumbled before once more gagging into the toilet. Hannibal stayed silent, letting Will’s body do what it needed to do. Will’s free hand reached out and palmed at the toilet paper roll, but at another bout of sickness, his hand fell back to the floor. Hannibal kept one hand in Will’s hair, the other reaching out for the toilet paper and pulling some free, holding it out to Will who snatched it up and cleaned his face. “Go away.” </p><p>“No,” Hannibal stated firmly, watching the way Will’s shoulders tensed at the disobedience in instruction. There was a gasp from Will that was followed by dry heaving, his stomach most likely empty. Hannibal sighed and once more rubbed at Will’s back, Will shivering beneath him. “You’re going to take a shower and then we’re going to get some fluids and medicine in you while I look over your injuries. I want to make sure none of them are infected.” </p><p>Will’s bleary eyes were cold as they looked over Hannibal, tears rolling down his cheeks. But he didn’t argue or object. He was compliant and let Hannibal pull him to his feet, or maybe he was too weak to fight Hannibal’s movements. </p><p>He rested Will’s body against the vanity for balance and began to pull loose the strap to his sling. He carefully removed the fabric from Will’s person and set it aside. “Do you need help undressing?” Hannibal asked softly, a hand brushing under Will’s curls to feel at the heat of Will’s skin. Will shook his head and Hannibal gave a sigh, pulling his hand back to himself. “I’ll be back in a moment. Please shower in something tepid. We need to bring your fever down.”</p><p>“I’m so tired of this thing,” Will grumbled, picking up the sling from the counter before letting it drop back on it, the metal pieces clicking as they hit the countertop. </p><p>"I would suspect that you're supposed to wear that for another week and a half at least," Hannibal pointed out and Will's annoyed look was more than enough of an answer. </p><p>"It's rubbing my neck raw," Will pointed out, pulling at the collar of his shirt with his index finger to show Hannibal an angry bright red mark left in his skin. </p><p>"I might have some fabric I can sew to it so it won't rub as badly, if you would like," Hannibal offered. He wasn't sure why the suggestion came so willingly and the look of intrigue in Will’s teary eyes made him feel somewhat uncomfortable and he couldn’t name why. </p><p>“Why didn’t it occur to me that you knew how to sew?” Will muttered, a hand going to his shoulder to rub at it, the appendage most likely sore from the angle it was being kept in. “Of course you would know how to sew. You stitch up some of your victims after taking parts of them.” </p><p>“Is that a yes, Will?” Hannibal asked. Will gave a nod and a weak, half smile. “Very well. Get cleaned up.” Hannibal took a step back, but Will’s hand shot out and snatched up Hannibal’s shirt as if on natural reflex. Hannibal let his hands gently caress over Will’s, relaxing Will’s grip enough that he could pry Will’s fingers from the fabric. “I promise I will be right back, Will. I’m not going far.” </p><p>Will didn’t say a word. He licked at his lips and nodded, eyes stuck on their hands. Hannibal gave Will’s hand a small squeeze before releasing the grip and leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He waited at the door until he heard the shower turn on and then busied himself with changing the bedding. </p><p>The shower was still on when Hannibal had finished and he took the time to head downstairs to get some stronger medicine for Will as well as some watered down juice and a mug of broth from the soup the other night. </p><p>He made his way back to his room with the items, doing his best to ignore the way the clock read one in the morning and how his next day was going to be another day of going through the movements with exhaustion. </p><p>The shower was still running when Hannibal reentered the bedroom and he stared at the door for a moment before setting everything down on the bedside table. Hannibal knocked once more on the bathroom door and waited for an answer. </p><p>“Will?” he called when no answer came. </p><p>“Can you help me?” The question was broken and pained and Hannibal didn’t hesitate in opening up the bathroom door and stepping inside. </p><p>He glanced towards the shower where Will stood in the stream of hot water that had fogged up the bathroom mirror. Hannibal sighed and stepped closer, unable to keep his eyes from following the line of Will’s toned body that was marked with black and blue and yellow bruises. </p><p>Will wasn’t perfectly in shape, years of having not been in field work and finally eating a bit better because of Hannibal had been filling out his body, but he was well built, even if his ribs were still showing easily. Arms were strong from building boat motors and were decorated with a farmer's tan. His back was a firm line of muscles and his legs were powerful, made to chase. </p><p>Both legs had stitches down them. His left thigh had been cut the deepest and the stitches trailed from his hip and across his thigh to his knee, followed dutifully by a spider's web of cracked purple bruising. His right calf also held stitches though they weren't nearly as extensive. </p><p>His right wrist was cut and stitched in what must have been a defensive wound, holding his arms up to block the axe. And there was another sister stitching a little higher up on his forearm. His left side looked untouched by sutures, but his shoulder was lividly bruised, dusted in yellows and sickly greens. </p><p>Hannibal pulled his eyes from the man and stepped a little closer. “I said tepid, Will,” he scolded lightly, no actual bite to the words as he reached in and turned the water’s scalding temperature down to something more lukewarm. “We’re trying to break your fever, not increase it.” </p><p>“Sorry.” </p><p>Hannibal looked up to a pair of sad blue eyes and Hannibal gave a sigh and did his best to show Will a kind smile. “What do you need help with?” </p><p>“I can’t get all of the soap out of my hair and I can’t reach my back,” Will grumbled, a bit of a childish whine to his tone that Hannibal dismissed as being due to the fever. “It’s cold, Hannibal.” </p><p>Will’s hand reached out for the knob and Hannibal was swift to snatch up his wrist. Will gasped, face twisted in pain and Hannibal swiftly dropped his hold. “Forgive me,” Hannibal whispered. Will didn’t say anything, just simply stepped into the water and Hannibal moved close enough that he could help wash the soap from Will’s hair, releasing a much more pleasant scent of spices into the air than Will’s sick. “Acromioclavicular or Sternoclavicular sprain?” Hannibal asked as he reached past Will and for the body soap and the washcloth that had been thrown aside, most likely in frustration. </p><p>“Sternoclavicular,” Will answered, turning his back to Hannibal to show mostly clear skin, free from the black and blues of his front. Hannibal’s hand carefully took Will’s shoulder to hold him in place while he washed at the span of Will’s back, doing his best to keep his eyes on his work and not dropping any lower. “Just grade one though. I’m lucky.” </p><p>“I will make sure to get you some ice for it. I should have asked sooner.” </p><p>“It’s fine.” Hannibal stepped back and rinsed off the washcloth and his hands in the stream of water before letting Will back into the water. With a deep breath, he stepped away from Will and busied himself with finding a towel for the man. “Thank you.” </p><p>“You’re welcome, Will,” Hannibal muttered, eyes held firmly on the floor. </p><p>It was an odd feeling, just standing there with Will, if he was being honest. There was no problem with the man being naked beside him. There had never been a problem with such a thing before. Hannibal had dealt with all sorts of nakedness in the ER and this was no different. It was just another patient needing help. So why did it make his mouth go dry and make him want to look away? </p><p>It was just Will. It shouldn’t have been that big of an issue. It was simply a man he had grown incredibly close to in such a short amount of time and had honestly never thought of much in this way. Ever since their heated rush to Hannibal’s room that was interpreted with a phone call from Franklyn, Hannibal hadn’t thought about Will in such a way. Hadn’t imagined or pictured the way Will’s body would look undressed. He had barely gotten Will out of his shirt when the phone had begun to ring incessantly. </p><p>The water shut off and Hannibal held out the towel to Will who took it and wiped the water from his face. He groaned into the fabric and Hannibal looked over the man. “I need to shave,” his muffled voice said and Hannibal felt a small smile pull at his lips. </p><p>“Later, Will.” </p><p>“I hate being sick.” Will looked up from the fabric and sighed, starting the process of drying himself off. “I feel like I can breathe fire with how hot my lungs are.” </p><p>“That would definitely be a cause for concern,” Hannibal teased, turning away from Will. “I will find you some clothes.” </p><p>Hannibal dismissed himself from the room as quickly as he could before Will could have the chance to read his emotions that he was desperately trying to keep pinned down beneath his mask. That didn’t stop the way that he could feel Will’s curious eyes following after him through. </p><p>With clothing in hand, he stepped back into the bathroom and placed the items on the counter beside Will who now, thankfully, had the towel wrapped around his waist and was looking in the mirror at the deep bruising over his shoulder. </p><p>Will glanced over with a small lift of his lips and a grateful smile that dropped almost immediately and he reached out for a pair of boxers. Hannibal left the bathroom and once more entered his bedroom, glancing around it with a hand in his hair trying to come up with something for himself to do other than think about Will. With a deep breath, he went and grabbed an ice pack from the kitchen and then located his sewing kit and some spare fabric from the lining of a suit he had had tailored a few years back and made his way back to his room. </p><p>Uneven footsteps called Hannibal’s attention back to the bathroom that Will was leaving with only his boxers on and his sling in his hand. Will stepped over to the bed and set the sling down on the bedside table, before slowly lowering himself onto the bed. </p><p>“You wanted to look at my injuries, right?” Will asked softly, making sure there was a supportive pillow before he lied down on the bed, arm held to his chest in a way to minimize the stress on his arm. </p><p>Hannibal stepped closer to the bed and held out the ice pack to Will who took it and placed it over his shoulder with a hiss and closed his eyes. Hannibal sat on the bedside and pulled Will’s hand to him so he could look over the carefully placed stitching in Will’s arm. He hadn’t expected there to be an infection. Not when he knew exactly what was wrong, but he still felt the need to check.</p><p>“What was your nightmare about Will?” Hannibal rested Will’s arm back down and shifted himself a little further down the bed to look over Will’s legs, hands gently picking up the right one first. “You didn’t seem quite as disturbed by this one.”</p><p>“My throwing up wasn’t being disturbed?” Will muttered, voice barely a whisper, throat most likely sore from his stomach turning on him. </p><p>Hannibal gave a light smile and moved his hands over to Will’s other leg. “I think your stomach being unsettled is due to your fever.”</p><p>“You know,” Will stated, though his eyes didn’t open as if he were teetering on the edge of sleep. “I’ve never had someone take care of me when I was sick.” Hannibal’s eyes flickered up from the wonderfully kept stitches over Will’s thigh and listened to the sick man. “I would just curl up in my bed and try to sleep it away. It wasn’t until Bev caught the flu once and I went over to make sure she was ok that I realized how wonderful it must have been to have someone there for you.” Will gave a small laugh that was more a breath of air. “Her mom sat beside her on the couch all day, playing with her hair while they watched Pride and Prejudice, the one with Colin Firth, and her mom would get her water and medicine and toast or soup whenever she asked for it without even commenting about it. I think I would have liked to experience that.” </p><p>“Would you like me to download Pride and Prejudice to my tablet and make you some toast Will?” </p><p>Will’s face broke once more into that brilliant smile and he tried to laugh, but it turned into a fit of coughing. Hannibal frowned, hand caressing Will’s ankle without a thought. It wasn’t often that Hannibal felt guilt, but Will seemed to be able to drag it out of him with ease. What he was doing must have been something truly awful because he had never had to work so hard to justify his own reasons to himself. Not until he had met this man. </p><p>
  <em>I’m a good fisherman. </em>
</p><p>The words still plagued him and there was nothing he could do to flush them from his system. Nothing would ever make those words sit right in his body and he wasn’t going to try to force them to. He would hold to those words like a life line if it kept him afloat. </p><p>
  <em>I really hope that you understand the sides that I’m playing here and I’m not against you.</em>
</p><p>“No,” Will replied with a harsh exhale, his right hand tight on the ice pack on his shoulder. “No. That’s ok. I do not need toast or Colin Firth to make me feel better when I’m sick. But I bet you that if Bev knew, she would run over here with a TV and a copy of the show.” </p><p>Hannibal gave Will’s ankle a light squeeze and released it. “I have medicine for you to take and then I would like for you to try to get some fluids in your body, Will.” </p><p>Will gave a nod and slowly pushed himself upright with a wince. Hannibal nodded to the bedside table as he reached over to pick up the sewing kit and the sling that Will had dropped there. Will reached for the juice and the pills, swallowing them down obediently. Hannibal opened up the small kit and pulled the needle and some thread from it before carefully threading the needle. </p><p>“I’ve been having this same nightmare since I was a child. That’s probably why it doesn’t bother me quite as much,” Will explained before he drank down more of the juice. Hannibal glanced up from his adjusting the fabric around the strap of the sling to see Will slowly drinking down the broth Hannibal had brought up. “It’s...” Will sighed and closed his eyes, scrunching them up in thought. </p><p>“Yes?” Hannibal pressed, turning his eyes back to the needle in his hand. </p><p>“There’s a forest of crucifixes,” Will explained with what looked like a confused expression as if he couldn’t believe what his subconscious had been feeding him since childhood. “Eventually they turn into trees and then they become wet with dew or rain and it’s dripping from the branches, but as I get closer I realize that it’s blood.” </p><p>Hannibal stole a glance up before his eyes returned to his sewing. Will’s face had softened and his eyes were locked, unseeing up at the ceiling, the cup of broth in his hand. </p><p>“The whole forest began to writhe, just oozing blood. And then there’s this monster, half man, half something else. He’s made of obsidian and has antlers that scrape the sky made of pitch. He goes to each of the trees, catching the blood in a cup and when the cup is finally full he brings it to me and tells me to drink it.” </p><p>Hannibal once more looked up from his work, a million questions in his head, but only one left his mouth. “Do you drink it, Will?” </p><p>“I don’t at first,” Will answered softly. He took another long sip of the broth and sighed, eyes closing. “I can’t move, can’t seem to breathe and the monster grows impatient and forces me to drink it. Unhinges my jaw and tips the cup. It’s thick and hot and chokes me. Once the cup is empty he goes and gets more. I am left gasping and gagging and he continues to make me drink until I am like him. A monster of obsidian and pitch with antlers. And then I wake up.” </p><p>Hannibal finished the last stitch and bit the thread. He closed up the small kit and held out the sling to Will who took it with a look of dislike and Hannibal assumed it was due to having to put it back on rather than the work that Hannibal had done on it. He let the fabric drop onto his chest and he closed his eyes tiredly. </p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered, the hint of a smile over his lips. </p><p>“You’re welcome.” Hannibal glanced around the quiet room for a moment before turning his gaze to Will. “Do you need help putting that back on?” </p><p>“No.” Will licked at his lips and shook his head. “The ice feels nice. Just a minute or two more, please.” </p><p>“As you wish.” Hannibal rose to his feet and gathered up the sewing kit and the empty juice cup to return them to the kitchen. “Please finish that broth Will. I will bring you up some water.” Will nodded and Hannibal turned his way back to his bedroom door. </p><p>“Hannibal?” </p><p>Hannibal’s footsteps paused and he glanced over his shoulder to the man in his bed. </p><p>“Yes, Will?”</p><p>“Do you think that the brain scan could have been wrong?” </p><p>Hannibal’s mouth went dry and he struggled to find the words as something viscous entangled his ribs and snatched painfully around his lungs. </p><p><em>Tell him, </em>his head screamed at him. <em>Tell him everything. </em></p><p>“I assure you that Doctor Sutcliffe is the very best in his field, Will,” Hannibal answered dryly, the small voice in the back of his head tearing at him. </p><p>
  <em>Tell him!</em>
</p><p>“I wouldn’t have taken you to him if I didn’t trust him.” Hannibal sighed. “I was with him through the entire process, Will. You saw the exact same pictures that I saw.” </p><p>
  <em>Liar! Tell him!</em>
</p><p>“But, is it possible that he could have missed something?” Will pressed again, though his eyes stayed shut and his body kept still, attention hidden behind his eyelids. There was a frown dancing about his lips and he licked them. “Please tell me that it’s possible.” </p><p>
  <em>Coward.</em>
</p><p>“Will, you need rest. We can discuss this in the morning,” Hannibal excused. Anything to get him out of the room, out of the conversation that was flaying him alive from the inside out. </p><p>“You’re feeling distant again, Hannibal.” Will’s bloodshot blue eyes finally opened and his head tipped to better look over Hannibal. “I might not have the keys to all of your rooms, Hannibal, but I have the front door open. What aren’t you telling me?” </p><p>“What makes you think that I’m not telling you something?” Hannibal asked back in a calm and calculated voice. He took a deep breath and turned back to fully face Will. </p><p>Clever little boy who knew far too much. It would be so easy to take care of it now. He was so weak, injured, fevered. Hannibal was sure that Will would put up a fight, but one good hit to his shoulder or his thigh would put him down for the count. But Hannibal couldn’t risk it. If he were to get rid of Will, all attention would come back to him. Hannibal had been far too protective over Will with Jack and had shown far too much of an interest in Will with Alana. Donald knew exactly what Hannibal had planned with Will and that was only another person to pin the blame on him if something did happen to Will. Beverly would be another problem entirely. </p><p>Hannibal had backed himself into a corner and he was just going to have to let nature play out. The encephalitis would do its job in due time and Hannibal just had to be patient. He had to hold his hand and wait for everyone else to make their bids before he played. He could do it, would do it. Self-preservation always came first, even if it hurt. </p><p>“I can’t give you a reason,” Will finally replied, eyes glancing over Hannibal carefully. “Sometimes I can read people outright and other times I just have feelings. I guess this is just a gut feeling.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a light smile. “Instinct is there for a reason, Will.” Will’s brows furrowed at the comment as if he wasn’t sure how to interpret it. “Always listen to your intuition.” Hannibal turned back around and made his way to the door. </p><p>Would Will understand? Would Will finally get it? Or would Will still blindly trust him? Some part of Hannibal wanted both scenarios to be true. He desperately wanted Will to pull away from him, understand exactly what game Hannibal was playing. He really had come to adore the boy after all, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity in watching Will’s mind tear itself apart with little to no help from Hannibal. And especially someone with Will’s mind, nonetheless. Anyone else would have been entertaining at best, but Will was thought provoking. He would be dinner and a show. </p><p>“Hannibal,” Will said once more and again Hannibal paused, hand on the door handle. He waited for Will’s next few words, but they didn’t come. Hannibal licked at his lips and finally turned back to the bed when he heard movement. Will was pushing himself to his feet and began a slow limp around the bed until he stood directly in front of Hannibal. </p><p>“Will, go back to bed,” Hannibal instructed. </p><p>Will shook his head, a hand reaching out to rest itself against Hannibal’s chest, palm pressing up against his heart. Will stepped a little closer until Hannibal was backed up against the wood of his bedroom door. </p><p>“Look at me, Hannibal,” Will whispered and Hannibal obeyed, merlot meeting ice. “I know what you are and who you are Hannibal. I know how dangerous you can be.” Will’s other hand dropped and Hannibal could see the pain radiating through those blue eyes as Will moved his shoulder in a way it shouldn’t have been moving. Will’s hand picked up his and Hannibal’s palm was guided to Will’s cheek where Will nuzzled into it. “I’ve seen what these hands can do and I want you to know that they don’t scare me.” </p><p>“Will, I-” </p><p>“Shh,” Will ordered, shaking his head before he pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s palm, breath scorching hot. “I also need you to know that whatever it is you’re hiding from me, I will find it.” Diamond eyes flickered between Hannibal’s carefully and Hannibal found himself struggling with how to react or what to say. “It’s my job, Hannibal, and it's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living.” </p><p>Will leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth like he had the first night they had met for dinner. Will pulled back and closed his eyes with a small breath, fingers rubbing gently against the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt in time to Hannibal’s heartbeats. </p><p>“You’re quite interesting, Doctor Lecter,” Will whispered, head cocked and a teasing smile on his lips. “Your heart rate didn’t fluctuate while being threatened or when I kissed you.” </p><p>“And your fever seems to be doing better,” Hannibal muttered, saying the first thing that came to his mouth. What a dangerous little boy. “Back to bed, Will.”</p><p>“You’ll hold me, right?” Will asked back, catching Hannibal by surprise with the neediness in his voice. Hannibal gave a small nod in answer and Will smiled. “Hurry back.” This time a full kiss was pressed to Hannibal’s lips before Will pulled back, taking all of his fevered heat with him back to the bed. </p><p>Hannibal caught his breath and left the room, heading back downstairs and for the kitchen. He put the kit away and refilled the glass with water, but stopped before he could bring himself to leave the room. </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes and leaned against the counter, trying to let his body soak into the floor and to the space below the kitchen and dining room. His own private place. Somewhere he desperately wished he could enter, but knew that if he stayed from the bedroom longer than necessary that Will would come and find him and he couldn’t have that. Instead Hannibal had to soak in the safety that room brought him through the floorboards. </p><p>
  <em>...the very air has screams smeared on it. In those places, he doesn't just reflect, he absorbs.</em>
</p><p>He hadn’t been lying when he had said that to Jack. Will absorbed everything around him from young women having their achilles tendons cut to a coffee mug being smashed on the ground and a shop owner fretting over it. Will took in and felt everything. </p><p>Hannibal blinked and glanced over at the closed door of his pantry, straightening himself up. His brows furrowed and he left the counter, heading towards the door. Could Will possibly know? He had left Will alone for hours in his home. He had doubted that the boy would have been awake enough to find the room, but Will was unpredictable, unreadable, indecipherable. </p><p>He could have found it. There were enough screams stained into those walls to fill Dante’s Inferno with ease. Will would have had no issue picking up on them. If he had found the room, he hadn’t said anything about it. He hadn’t hinted at it whatsoever, but he wouldn’t. Will wouldn’t say a thing about it unless it benefited him, just as he hadn’t used his profession against Hannibal until he felt threatened and needed to. </p><p>Hannibal’s hand took the door handle and he pushed open the door to the pantry, glancing inside at the shelving of produce and then to the cellar door in the floor. It looked untouched, but Will wouldn’t leave anything behind, whether it be a killer or police instinct, he would have made sure everything was back exactly where it needed to be. </p><p>Hannibal stepped further into the small room and bent down, pulling on the small latch in the floor, the door pulling up and open and allowing a gust of cold air to enter the pantry. The dim light from the kitchen cast weary shadows down a flight of stairs, but Hannibal didn’t push any further down. Will hadn’t been down there. The room smelt as it always did. Clean. There were no ships on bottles, or fevered sweetness or vanilla and citrus with spices or his own soaps. Just a chemical cleanliness. </p><p>He closed the door back up with a relieved breath and left the pantry, finding the glass of water on the counter and heading back for the stairs to his bedroom. Will had to go home tomorrow. Hannibal couldn’t keep putting his life on hold for Will. Not anymore. Will had disrupted his life more than enough and while it had its moments of something fun, Hannibal was growing tired of playing it. </p><p>But if that were the truth, then why did he continue to help Will? Why wasn’t he just letting the fever do its job? If Will was bad enough to have had a seizure, then what was Hannibal doing stopping the possibility of another one or a few of them? He needed to step back, needed to let go, needed to get his life back on track or he was going to end up like the butterflies in his shadow box. He was going to be pinned to a board and examined under a magnifying glass. </p><p>When Hannibal entered his bedroom once more he stopped to look over Will. Will had moved himself over to the opposite side of the bed, leaving Hannibal’s side open. His sling was back on and the dark purple silk rested against the paleness of his neck like another one of the bruises that bloomed over his gently rising and falling chest. </p><p>Hannibal set the water beside Will and made his way around to his side of the bed, unsure if he could fall asleep again now that his mind seemed fully alert and ready to take in every small little detail of Will Graham to make sure that the man stayed in place, exactly where he needed to be. </p><p>He clicked off the lamp and climbed into bed, eyes tight on the ceiling above him, fingers tense in their hold of the silk sheets beneath him. </p><p>“You said you’d hold me.” Will’s whispered words caressed the air around Hannibal and despite how badly he wanted to ignore them, something in his body moved him to glance over at Will. There was a loud bout of coughing that tugged at the stickiness around Hannibal’s ribs and lungs, only pulling the sensation tighter around him. “Please?” It was a plea, weak and sick and desperate and belonging to someone who didn’t want to be alone. </p><p>Hannibal moved closer to Will and the man turned onto this right side, sinking himself into Hannibal’s side. Hannibal could only blink as Will nuzzled his head between Hannibal’s arm and his chest like a dog might. Hannibal adjusted a bit more to his side to allow Will a proper place to lay his head, and his elbow bent to allow his fingers to dig into Will’s curls. </p><p>Will sighed and hid his face in Hannibal’s neck and Hannibal did his best to ignore the heated breath from Will’s lips. There was a small kiss to Hannibal’s neck. </p><p>“G’night darlin’,” Will mumbled, his accent dangerously thick. </p><p>A strange twinge lit up Hannibal’s spine at the endearment, unsure he had ever heard himself be called something like that before, even by his mother. Hanni had been the closest that his mother had ever come to a pet name for him, though his sister had had plenty of them. </p><p>“Good night, dear boy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I saw before me a forest of crucifixes which gradually turned into trees. At first, there appeared to be dew or rain, dripping from the branches, but as I approached I realized it was blood. The whole forest began to writhe and the trees, dark and erect, to ooze blood...A man went from each tree catching the blood...When the cup was full, he approached me. 'Drink,' he said, but I was unable to move.<br/>-John Haigh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You don’t understand me. You are not expected to. You are not capable of it. I am beyond your experience.” </p><p>― Richard Ramirez</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's a longer chapter to make up for the last one. Still sick, but powering through. Haha. Please take it easy. We have a few more rough chapters left, but it will level out. Promise. Enjoy!</p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>When Hannibal woke, the prospect of an empty bed hadn’t been one he had expected. He honestly couldn’t remember a time when he had woken up to an empty bed when someone had slept beside him and it forced a peculiar feeling that Hannibal couldn’t exactly name into his limbs. </p><p>He climbed from the bed and glanced around the room, finding everything perfectly in place as it had been before Will had upturned his living quarters. Not even the glass of water from the night before was left on the nightstand. </p><p>Hannibal’s brows furrowed and he found his robe on the back of one of his chairs. He pulled it on and left the empty room, out into the hall and down the stairs in the direction of the kitchen, where something sweet filled the air. </p><p>The kitchen was also empty, though there were some pans drying on the counter that hadn’t been there the night before and Hannibal’s eyes caught a note placed on the counter top. He moved over to it and picked it up, glancing over the words written in a hand he didn’t recognize, but placed with the first four words. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Good Morning Dr. Hotass,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will called and asked me to pick him up. Nice place you got. Made you some breakfast. Hope you enjoy it. It’s in the microwave. Thanks for taking care of Pretty Boy. He’d be helpless without you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Bev</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>P.S. Will cracked the eggs. If there are shells, it’s his fault</em> <em>.</em></p><p> </p><p>Hannibal read over the note several more times before setting it back on the counter and moving over to the microwave curiously. He opened it and found a plate with a Monte Cristo sandwich and a blackberry compote. Hannibal gave a small smile, pulling the plate from the microwave, the dish still warm and Hannibal wondered how long ago they had left his home. </p><p> Hannibal ate in a pleasant silence, wondering how many more cooked meals made by hands other than his he would be participating in with Will around. The thought caused his smile to drop and he sighed, no longer hungry. He wasn’t sure if he would truly be hungry again with the idea that both Will, and by association, Beverly would very soon be out of his life. </p><p>He had never let himself become this attached to a person after his aunt abandoned him, which he couldn’t blame the poor woman for doing. She had tried to calm the darkness in him and it had worked for a time until it just didn’t and that wasn’t her fault and Hannibal never saw it that way. He just wished she could have seen him the way that Will saw him. </p><p>The way he hoped Will saw him. Hoped Will was telling the truth. Hoped Will wasn’t acting. Hoped that everything would... Hannibal scoffed and stood from the bar stool at his counter, that he rarely ate at if ever, and left his unfinished plate there for a more calm and future Hannibal. </p><p>He made his way back to his room and picked out his suit for the day, trying to block his earlier train of thought from his mind, but as he filled the bathroom sink with warm water and fetched his razor, it drug him back into it. </p><p>What did he expect the outcome of this to be? He knew what he hoped it would be, knew what he wanted the outcome to be. It was a childish whim to believe that somehow Will was telling the truth and that the truth would manifest itself before the encephalitis could take over, or that the encephalitis would heal on its own without medical treatment. But his expected outcome did not favor his adoration for Will. It only secured his own life. </p><p>The encephalitis would claim Will with its fevered vengeance and Hannibal could walk away from that sticky portion of his life, unscathed by nothing more than a few cracks in his heart that he could patch up indefinitely. He could continue his life as a god among pigs with the world being none the wiser. It would be a dull and dreary existence, but he would exist. </p><p>Hannibal, now clean shaven, dressed and made quick work of folding his bed that left the hint of heated sweetness in the air that Hannibal did his best to ignore. Hannibal picked up his phone and made his way to the front door, keys in hand when a buzzing in his pocket made him stop. He fished his phone free and found the empath’s name on his screen. </p><p>He opened the several missed texts and stared at them for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I stole the rest of the chicken soup. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’ll bring back your tupperware, if you were worried about it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hope you liked breakfast. Bev said it was some spin on the sandwiches you made for dinner the other night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W. G.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And the latest one sent, most likely to capture his attention far more than the others made Hannibal pause. </p><p> </p><p><em>I’m giving a lecture on the Ripper toda</em> <em>y, after a psych eval with Bloom. </em></p><p>
  <em>-W.G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He must have taken far too long to answer because another text popped up before he had a chance to clearly think through the last one. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Would you want to stop by and hear it? Curious about your thoughts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W.G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Quickly followed by:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thanks for all your help, by the way. It was nice to have someone take care of me. Bev wants you to join us for toast and Pride and Prejudice tonight if you aren’t busy. I’d be more than happy to excuse you if that’s something that would displease you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W.G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal felt a sense of warmth flood his chest before he could close the floodgates and his lips curled up in a small smile. He glanced at his watch before finally answering Will’s string of messages. </p><p> </p><p><em>Good morning to you too, Will. Thank you for not holding my tupperware hostage</em> <em>, you are more than welcome to drop it by when you’ve finished the soup. Breakfast was lovely, thank you. What time is your lecture? I have a decent amount of appointments today, but I would enjoy seeing you work. I’m sure I would find it highly educational. As for this evening-</em></p><p> </p><p>Hannibal stopped with a small breath. Why was he indulging Will? Why was he sinking all of his free time, and his not free time, into this man? Was it just because he felt bad? That must have been the reason. He felt guilty for Will’s illness and this was how he was trying to make it up to him. That had to be it. Had to be the only logical explanation for all of his actions as of late. Guilt. </p><p>It was a lie. He could feel the way it tightened the muscles in his jaw the same way it always did when he lied. Lies were distasteful, disastrously so. He despised lying, despite how often he found himself having to do it. </p><p>Normally, he could make himself believe the lie. That was the best way to make the lie stick. A sweetly truthful coating helped the medicine go down far easier than vinegar would. But even he couldn’t lie to himself, no matter how much sugar he coated it in. </p><p>He had grown far too attached to this man in far too short a space of time. He had come to adore this man. That hadn’t been a lie. Will was someone close to him who was slowly turning into an obsession and it was going to cost him in the end. The moment he met Will, it was going to cost him dearly. </p><p> </p><p>-<em>As for this evening, I’m afraid that I have a previous engagement. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hannibal sighed and shoved his phone into his pocket, heading out to his car. The drive to work, though his office wasn’t too terribly far, seemed to drag on and on and even more so when his phone alerted him to another text or two.</p><p>His hands rushed for his phone the moment he was in the parked parking lot of his office and he mentally scolded himself about how much of a child he was acting about all of this. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My lecture is this afternoon at one. It’s alright if you can’t make it. And no worries about tonight. I will let Bev know you’re busy. And thanks for taking care of my dogs.  It means a lot that none of my pillows are missing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-W.G. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I will see what I can do about your lecture. I have a new patient today that has a meeting ending near that time that might allow me some leeway if our appointment doesn’t go over our intended hour. And you’re welcome, Will. I would hate to see harm come to such mismatched upholstery. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-H. L. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal back out of his messages with Will at the sight of a notification still being present and he found the unknown number that was now quite known had left him a message. </p><p> </p><p><em>I checked your calendar at your home</em> <em>. You are meticulous and list out meal plans. You don’t have anything planned tonight and it would make Will happy to see you. He deflated when you said you weren’t coming. </em></p><p>
  <em>Aren’t you a doctor? Come and make sure Will’s fever stays under control or something. I don’t know why he’s even going into work today. He can barely stand. I’m worried about him, but don’t let him know. He’ll think I’m being a mother hen.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I expect you ready for buttered toast, a box of tissues and old English at my place no later than six tonight. I’ll text you the address later. Thanks for taking such good care of him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Bev</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes and rubbed at them, that same hot viscous feeling tangling around his ribs once more. Could he really keep this up? Maybe he just misunderstood. He hadn’t heard the whole conversation. Maybe he was just giving Jack finishing advice. Will had mentioned ice fishing in one of their sessions once. It was possible. </p><p>But not probably. </p><p>Hannibal turned off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, heading to his office. </p><p>The hours crawled by, dragging at him, forcing his eyes to the clock only to be disappointed when the hands hadn’t moved nearly as much as he wanted them to. He was only half paying attention to his new client when the words left his mouth before he could stop them. </p><p>“You know you will have to kill him Margot.” His eyes focused on the petite woman across from him in the leather chair. She was well dressed and came from money. Old money. Her blood reeked of it just as Hannibal’s did. </p><p>Her family owned one of the largest pig slaughterhouses in the country. With the name Verger came a lot of connotations. Most of them dark and hidden, though a great deal of the public wasn’t privy to them, most of the time being paid for their silence if a member of the family got a little too loud. </p><p>“You’ve known it for years.” </p><p>Her bright blue eyes were wide and wet, though she hadn’t cried as of yet. She had also been fairly open, though she tried not to make eye contact and spent most of her time focused with an abused tissue in her hand. </p><p>Her body was scrunched up small, as if she were trying to protect herself from the cold that lay outside the windows. The hint of yellowing bruising decorated her pale throat and her wrists where they weren’t covered by her white jacket. </p><p>She didn’t look perturbed by the comment that Hannibal had made, just as he knew she wouldn’t be. That was the whole reason she was there in the first place. After years of abuse from her elder brother, Mason Verger, she had snapped and had tried to kill him, but had failed miserably when her father had returned home from work early. Her sessions were court mandated, not that Hannibal much cared where his clients came from, just that he still had them when all was said and done. Just to take the edge off the dullness life was. </p><p>“I may have missed my opportunity,” she said, voice monotone in the room. In truth, she sounded bored. This only intrigued Hannibal a little further. Maybe this could take up his time before he left for the academy to see Will’s lecture. Maybe the clock would move a bit quicker if he played along. </p><p>“Do you know why you failed to murder him, Margot?” Hannibal asked gently. </p><p>Margot shook her head in a shrugging fashion without her shoulder moving a fraction of an inch. “Poor planning,” she replied. </p><p>Hannibal tipped his head to the side, looking over Margot carefully for a moment. That wasn’t quite right, though it was the truth. No, through everything she had been explaining, through every last little nasty confession, her tone still held some form of regard for Mason. </p><p>“You failed to murder your brother because you still love him,” Hannibal pointed out. He waited for a moment for a reaction, but when none came, he continued. “In love, you take leave of your senses, but in hatred, you must be present to calculate your actions.”</p><p>Margot’s shining eyes dipped a bit and her face shrunk, causing her to look so much older than she actually was. The stress of her childhood had done a number on her physically and Hannibal nearly felt back for the woman. </p><p>“Allow yourself to hate him.” Hannibal shifted slightly in his chair, silence from the woman once more. “So you think Mason will just give you what you want?” He didn’t leave time for an answer despite the way the woman straightened up slightly in her chair. “You’ll be begging him for the rest of your life. Did begging help when he tore you?” She winced at the words. “Same thing as taking his chocolate and letting him have his way.” </p><p>What a nasty little habit. While Margot was often neglected by her family for having the proclivity for the wrong parts, Mason might as well have been applauded for his taste in little boys. He enjoyed feeding the children and Margot drugged chocolates. What he did with his victims after was anyone’s guess, but rumors were always based in truth. </p><p>There was a streak of defiance in her eyes as her truth was giving back to her to look at completely and fully. “I’m lucky I didn’t kill him,” she announced, though there was no change in her tone of voice. “Papa’s will was very clear.” The word clear was sharp with emphasis. “Upon the passing of his beloved son Mason, in the absence of a legitimate male heir, the sole beneficiary shall be the Southern Baptist Convention.”</p><p>Hannibal gave a small nod in understanding, lost in thought for a moment as his mind tried to come up with a solution that he could watch play out. “Even in death, Mason would take everything from you.” He licked at his lips as his thoughts came together and he made sure to word them carefully. “One of the most powerful forces that shapes us as human beings is the desire to leave a legacy.” Margot tipped her head slightly as she continued to listen. “What legacy would you leave behind?” </p><p>The answer was swift, somehow bitten out despite her bored timbre. “I don’t get a legacy.”</p><p>“Unless you make one.” Hannibal uncrossed his legs and re-crossed them in the opposite direction. “You are no more at fault for what happened to you than if you had been bitten by a mad dog.” </p><p>“Mad dogs are put down.” There was a snark to her answers and Hannibal couldn’t help feeling that Will did the same things when upset or in a vulnerable position. They both became rude. </p><p>“Is that what you hoped to accomplish when you attacked your brother?” </p><p>“Well, apparently, I went about <em>putting him down</em> the wrong way,” Margot mused. “He’s still alive.”</p><p>“Doing bad things to bad people makes us feel good.” He said those words often, found them to be some of the truest truths that he had ever uttered out into the universe before. It often would cause patients to tense up, but they knew it was true as well. They couldn’t hide away from it. “What’s your relationship with him now? Has it changed?”</p><p>“I think he thinks I’ve calmed down.” </p><p>“Have you?” </p><p>Margot’s head tipped to the side and there was a flash of irritation in the words. “Oh. I’m calm.” She gave a small nod of her head that was unconvincing. </p><p>“Are you going to try again?” </p><p>She gave a faint laugh, the most emotion he had seen on the woman their entire session. “This is where therapy gets a little tricky.” </p><p>“It doesn’t have to be tricky,” Hannibal said nonchalantly. </p><p>She inhaled deeply. “I could confess to a murder. You can’t say a word. I could’ve murdered someone this morning and you can’t say a word. But if I'm planning to commit a murder...” She trailed off and Hannibal picked up easily on the rest of her thought. </p><p>“I am ethically obliged to take action to prevent that murder.” Hannibal gave a small nod, watching the woman carefully. “But be that as it may, if there's no one else to protect you, Margot, you have to protect yourself. It would actually have been more therapeutic if you had killed him.” She eyed him carefully, but didn’t say anything, so Hannibal simply pushed on. He was always curious how far he could go, how close to the edge was too close and Margot Verger was no different. A wonderful distraction. “Every human being is capable</p><p>of committing acts of great cruelty. Your brother dehumanized you, and your family unfortunately fosters that climate of disrespect.” </p><p>“They think I'm weird,” she muttered out in a sing-songy voice. </p><p>“I'm much weirder than you will ever be, Margot. It's fine to be weird.” He couldn’t keep the humorous tone from his voice. </p><p>“They've already forgiven him.” Her eyes flashed annoyance, and still her voice never changed. “Talk shows and self-help books, they thrive on this sort of thing. Everybody loves a sinner redeemed. The prodigal son set about repairing his ways. He may have made bad choices before, but now he can make new, better choices.” There was an air of sarcasm to the words. </p><p>“Do you believe that?”</p><p>“Do you believe me?” she challenged back brightly. </p><p>“Well, it's not my role to believe you, Margot, it's my role to help you understand what you believe,” Hannibal offered out carefully. He had to keep his distance, be a guiding hand, not a shove. </p><p>“I believe my brother won't stop.”</p><p>“How does it make you feel?”</p><p>Hannibal could see the narrowing of her eyes at such a cliché question being asked, but Hannibal waited in silence for the answer. </p><p>“Angry.” The word was light and airy with a small shake of her head. </p><p>“Anger is an energizing emotion, prompts action against threat. If you're angry, you're optimistic you can stop this from happening again.”</p><p>“Oh,” she breathed out, shifting in her chair. “I know how to stop it.”</p><p>“If you really want to kill your brother, Margot, wait until you can get away with it. Or find someone to do it for you.”</p><p>There was the barest hint of smile in her voice. “Are you offering, Doctor Lecter?” </p><p>Hannibal felt his own small smile pull at his lips. “No,” he replied. “We all have a gauge</p><p>for humanity that twitches when we see other people. Tell me, Margot, what twitches when you see your brother?” </p><p>The answer was slow. “Not my gauge for humanity.”</p><p>“You don't recognize in your brother basic human traits.” Hannibal nodded in agreement, his observations easily leaving his mouth as they had the first day he had met Will. “You dehumanize him as much as he dehumanizes you.”</p><p>“At least, I'll never be the worst person I know.”</p><p>Hannibal chuckled, unable to help himself. “The tendency to see others as less</p><p>human than ourselves is universal.”</p><p>“My brother <em>is</em> less human,” she bit out. </p><p>“And you are less human for it.”</p><p>“Did you just dehumanize me?” Her eyebrows furrowed in question, but there was interest in her features. </p><p>“Psychiatrists who dehumanize patients are more comfortable with painful but effective treatments.”</p><p>There was a small <em>awe</em> recognition over Margot’s face and she nodded thoughtfully. “I met a patient of yours.” Hannibal’s head tilted in question. “Will Graham.” Her eyes sparked at the way that Hannibal straightened up in his chair and he cursed how simply just the man’s name caused him to react. “He’s interesting, I would dare say special. Wonder what sort of painful but effective treatment you prescribed him?” </p><p>“What do you imagine?” Hannibal found himself asking carefully. </p><p>“You're very supportive of me killing my brother,” Margot said with a sigh. “And I appreciate that support, I really do.” The truth. “But I can only imagine what you'd be supportive of Will Graham doing. What kind of psychiatrist are you?” </p><p>He had to separate himself from this, or at least from Will Graham. He was already far too tangled as it was and now questions of how the two of them had met were rushing through his head. “You already had my reputation and bona fides verified. You know what kind of psychiatrist I am.”</p><p>Margot gave a single note. “I'm beginning to.” </p><p>Hannibal gave what he hoped was a kind smile and glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I believe our hour is up. Same time next week, Margot.” </p><p>“Same time next week,” she confirmed, rising to her feet and leaving the room with her heels clicking. The door shut behind her and Hannibal exhaled deeply, pushing himself to his feet to find his car keys, sure he could analyze their conversation further in the car. </p>
<hr/><p>The drive took longer than Hannibal had thought it would and the snow only made everything worse. There was a decent sized wreck at an intersection that was notorious for red light runners and by the time Hannibal had gotten past that, arrived at the school and had been instructed on where to find Will’s classroom, the man was nearly done with his lecture, which honestly was quite a shame because the few minutes that Hannibal was able to catch were intriguing to say the least. </p><p>Will was pacing with a limp in front of the class of weary eyed looking students who no doubt were feeling the stress that came with Will’s class. With a short conversation with a student who guided Will to the class room he had quickly learned that while Will was an excellent teacher and had produced some of the best agents out in the field, he was a difficult teacher to deal with and most ended up dropping his class, unable to make the cut. </p><p>“He was better than that,” Will said, the projector remote in his hand. He clicked it and Hannibal watched as his latest kill, the man in the shadow box appeared up on the screen. Will adjusted his glasses and Hannibal tipped his head at the sight of a tie around the man’s neck, unsure if he had ever actually witnessed Will wear a tie, even when Will had gone to the opera. </p><p>“He is an intelligent psychopath. He is a sadist. He will never kill like this again. So how do we catch him?” Will licked his lips and Hannibal tipped his head to the side as he listened. “This man is an avid reader of Freddie Lounds and tattlecrime.com. This kill was an answer to a killer we are currently referring to as the Baltimore Butcher, who we spoke about last class, and who is constantly written about in tattle crime articles.” </p><p>Hannibal stepped a little further into the class and watched as Will’s curls were slowly going damp with sweat, his fever coming back from whatever medicine he had taken that had calmed it slightly. He shifted uncomfortably and pulled a suit coat a little closer around him, adjusting it over his slinged shoulder. </p><p>“He had intimate knowledge of The Butcher’s murders, motives, patterns, enough to answer the kills and, arguably, elevate them to art,” Will continued and his eyes met Hannibal’s with a faint smile in them, though none was present on his lips. “How intimately does he know</p><p>The Butcher? Does he appreciate him from afar or does he engage him? Has he ingratiated himself into The Butcher’s life? Does The Butcher know The Ripper?” </p><p>Hannibal kept his smile to himself at the absurd questions that Will was asking future hunters. If only they knew of the monster that was standing there right in front of them. If only they understood. He nearly wished he could tell them just to see how they would react. </p><p>“Now, how do we know he is answering the Butcher?” Will began pacing again. “We put out a calling card of sorts in a Lounds article about the Butcher and the Ripper answered it. We claimed that the Ripper’s kills belonged to the Butcher and that infuriated him. He had to prove that he was the one and only Ripper.” </p><p>“And how do we know that they aren’t the same killer?” a voice piped up from somewhere in the darkened room that Hannibal couldn't quite place. </p><p>Will stiffened at the question, licking his lips nervously. “One takes organs from the victims, the other does not for one. We have gone over this meticulously in previous classes. You would do well to pay attention, Mr. Prurnell.” Will exhaled deeply with a nod as he looked at the watch on his wrist, shaking his hand to help his sleeve ride up. “That concludes our class for today. I would like a report on these two killers and what makes them two different killers by next class period. Anything from possible age differences to motives. Eight pages on my desk at the beginning of class.” There was a collective groan from the class, but Will ignored them. “Dive into their psychology. Tell me why they think the way they do. Tell me who they are. Tell me their design. You’re dismissed.” </p><p>Hannibal waited by the entrance of the classroom for the students to filter out before he made his way over to the desk where Will was closing his laptop and picking up notes. Will glanced up with a small smile, skin pale and a sheen of sweat over his skin. </p><p>“You’re teaching classes on the Ripper and Butcher?” Hannibal asked curiously, glancing around the intimate looking class that had Will positioned right in the center of a ring of rising seats. </p><p>“Well, we need every good mind we can get on this,” Will replied, his words soft. He swallowed and his hand took the desk for balance. “I feel awful. Bev was right. I should have stayed home.” </p><p>“We could have Alana-” </p><p>“No!” Will snapped quickly, looking up at Hannibal with wide eyes. Hannibal’s brow rose at the outburst, but he didn’t say anything, allowing time for Will to explain. Will rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. “No. I was adamant that I was perfectly fine and could work this week during my psych eval. If she knew that I-that I...” Will let out a sharp breath through his nose. “She would hold it smugly over my head and never let me back out into the field.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded, a hand reaching out to brush back Will’s wet curls. “Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked softly, the back of his hand pressing itself into flushed cheeks and Will leaned into the touch. “Maybe you would feel better if-”</p><p>“You know I can’t do that,” Will grumbled. “I hoped that you of all people would understand that.” </p><p>“Why do you insist on doing it?” Hannibal lowered his hand to Will’s shoulder when the man wavered. </p><p>“I save lives.”</p><p>“And that feels good.”</p><p>“Generally speaking, yeah,” Will answered softly. </p><p>Hannibal didn’t push it. Instead he sighed. “When is your lunch break?” </p><p>“Now,” Will answered. “I usually eat with Bev, but-” </p><p>“Did you bring anything?” </p><p>“Just the soup.” Will shrugged. “But Bev has the Dayquil and I need some more if I’m going to somehow get through the rest of my day.” </p><p>“Let’s go find Beverly then, shall we?” Hannibal asked softly, letting Will lead him from the classroom and down a maze of halls until they were at the school’s food court. Hannibal was able to spot Beverly easily, her dark hair a sharp contrast to the almost medical white of the floors and dining tables. Will wandered over to the table and sat down in the seat opposite her and she lowered her sandwich with a concerned look. </p><p>“You look like death,” she muttered. </p><p>“That’s comforting,” Will grumbled, leaning his head onto the table. </p><p>Beverly’s eyes flickered up to Hannibal who had simply come to stand at their two seat table. “He needs to go home,” she whispered and Will shook his head. </p><p>“I can’t go home. I’ll be fine after some more medicine.” </p><p>Hannibal sighed, looking between the two friends. “Beverly, would you please get him some tea and medicine while I heat up his lunch for him?” </p><p>“I’m not a child,” Will argued out, yet he still hadn’t lifted his head from the table. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow as if he were on the edge of sleep which he most likely desperately needed. “I can do it myself.” </p><p>“Sure,” Beverly snorted out sarcastically, reaching out to ruffle Will’s curls before getting to her feet. “Don’t wander off now, Pretty Boy. I’ll be back in a moment.” </p><p>Hannibal waited for Beverly to leave before he lowered himself to the side of the table, a hand resting on Will’s knee. “Will, where is your lunch?” </p><p>“In the fridge, over there.” He pointed over Hannibal’s shoulder without looking up and let his hand fall back to the table. “I’m gonna be sick.” </p><p>“Will, as your friend, I would suggest-” </p><p>“We’re friends?” Will asked back, eyes finally flickering open with a hint of a joke in them. </p><p>Hannibal let out an irritated sigh and warmth flooded through him at a smile from Will. </p><p>“As your doctor, I insist you go home and rest.” </p><p>“Are you my doctor or are we just having conversations?” Will teased, forcing himself to sit up, his head resting in his hand. He gave a moan of discomfort. </p><p>“Yes, I think is the answer to that,” Hannibal replied with a slight smile. “I’ll be back in a moment.”</p><p>Hannibal followed the instructions to the fridge and located his bowl of soup, heading over the microwave to heat it up, much to his chagrin. When he returned to the table, Beverly was once more munching on her sandwich and Will was gulping down two large orange pills with a steaming cup of tea. Beverly had moved a third chair to the side of the table and Hannibal took it with a grateful smile after setting the bowl in front of Will. </p><p>“Thanks,” he whispered, picking up the plastic spoon and taking a small slurp of the broth. He closed his eyes and sighed. “You said you had a new patient today? How were they?” </p><p>“Interesting,” Hannibal answered coolly, looking over Will. Did he know who it was? “They said that they knew you.” </p><p>Beverly snickered. “Everyone knows who Will is. He’s a bit famous in our work circles and anyone worth their shit knows he wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity.”</p><p>Hannibal’s brows rose in interest and Will simply shook his head. “Mant and Nuorteva’s is far better than mine,” Will muttered, eyes down on his food. “It has more pictures and a table of invasion waves. Zeller would agree with me.” </p><p>“Well, I’m not Zeller,” Beverly said with her bright half smile. “And you’re just being modest.” </p><p>“Your specialty is in behavioral science, not forensic entomology,” Hannibal pointed out in curiosity. “Why did you write it?”</p><p>Will looked a little taken aback by this, as if he had never been asked the question before. There was something upset in the answer. “I have several degrees in forensic science and my specialty is in interpreting the evidence. Sometimes said evidence includes insects. My skills extend beyond my empathy disorder.” </p><p>“Did you author the monograph so you would have something to your name other than an empathy disorder?” Hannibal asked back, head cocked to the side. He could feel Beverly’ eyes on him in warning, but he ignored them, more interested in Will’s reasonings than the small disagreement, if it could be called that. “Will, I am more than aware that you are talented and that your talents extend further than your empathy, but that doesn’t change the fact that people rarely write monographs on subjects that are not their specialties, especially monographs that are considered standard in their fields.” </p><p>Will blinked for a moment, eyes flickering over Hannibal’s face while he chewed on his words. “Behavioral analyst isn’t an exact science despite what television might make you believe,” Will explained, voice still tight. “No one in the BAU could possibly do their job without a thorough understanding of the mechanics of a crime scene which means that our specialties extend outside of our fields.” Will pointed over to Beverly who was watching in silence as the conversation continued to unfold. “Bev’s is fiber analysis, Price’s is dactyloscopy, and I’m sure Zeller is good at something else too. My mind is too foggy for me to try to-” </p><p>“Chief medical examiner?” Beverly offered with a small disbelieving laugh. </p><p>“An M.E.” Will nodded. “Thank you.” </p><p>“Welcome?” Beverly answered with a laugh. </p><p>“Besides,” Will pressed on, soup now completely forgotten and attention fully on Hannibal who was simply enjoying Will’s babbling. “I’ve written plenty of monographs, a good portion of which are considered standard. This just happens to be far more useful at a crime scene than how cyberbullying affects mental disorders. Forensic entomology just so happens to be useful at a crime scene and a small enough field that there’s not many other papers out there for competition.” </p><p>Hannibal smiled softly. “You’re deflecting, Will,” he said smoothly, causing Will to frown. “Why did you write it?” </p><p>Will groaned and picked up his spoon once more, stirring the soup. “I needed the money.” </p><p>Beverly coughed on her sandwich and laughed. “That’s the whole reason?” she asked back with a bright grin when she had caught her breath. “You needed some cash?” </p><p>“I said it was a small field. It wasn’t a difficult thing to write. It’s only like three pages long,” Will defended. “I was tight on rent, so sue me.” Desperate to get the attention off of him, blue eyes met merlot in a plea. “They said they knew me?” Hannibal gave a nod. Will turned his attention back to his absent stirring. “As long as it’s not the cheese guy.” </p><p>“Cheese guy?” Beverly questioned in interest. “I want to know about a cheese guy.” </p><p>“A rather unfortunate man,” Hannibal dismissed quickly. “She said she had spoken to you before. Knew you were one of my patients.” </p><p>“What’s her name?”</p><p>“Margot Verger.” </p><p>Will’s hand paused for a mere moment, but it was long enough for Hannibal to catch and mark down quickly.</p><p>“I don’t know her,” Will muttered as he brought another spoonful of soup to his mouth. </p><p>“What do you mean you don’t know her?” Beverly asked in shock. “Everyone knows her.” </p><p>Will rolled his eyes. “Of course I know <em>of</em> her. I just don’t <em>know</em> her. I’ve never met her before.” </p><p>Hannibal looked over Will’s face closely, though he couldn’t exactly read it. He couldn’t tell if Will was lying or not. Hannibal didn’t know if he had ever been able to tell if Will was lying or not. It was possible that Will could have met the young woman during one of his black outs and not even have realized it. Possible, but yet again, Hannibal saw it as improbable. Before he could ask, a sickly pale color filled Will’s cheeks, a new sheen of sweat over his skin. </p><p>“Excuse me,” he muttered, practically bolting from the table. Hannibal watched as Will disappeared and Beverly got to her feet in worry as if to follow him, but stopped. </p><p>“I’ve never seen him like this before,” she muttered, slowly sitting back down at the table. “He’s never been this sick before. I know he doesn’t take care of himself, but even when he was sick, he could still function.” </p><p>“Maybe his body was just too tired to keep going. That often happens during high stress occupations. I have an accountant who often falls ill after tax season is over. They work themselves to the point of breaking and their bodies won’t allow them to be sick until the stress is gone. Then it all settles in.” </p><p>“I hope you’re right,” she whispered in answer. “He needs to go home, but he won’t listen to me. He’s a hard ass.” </p><p>“I’d offer to watch him, but I do have several more appointments that I have to attend to.” Hannibal glanced at his watch. He would be late if he stayed here much longer. He had to battle snow and imbeciles who didn’t understand how to drive in the snow. </p><p>“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Beverly assured with a nod. “You are coming tonight, aren’t you?”</p><p>“I already told-” </p><p>“I know what you told Will, but think about how happy you’ll make him when you show up. Isn’t that something a boyfriend should do?”</p><p>Hannibal felt his mouth go dry. "Is that what we are?" he asked softly. </p><p>Beverly's smile dipped. "Oh. I'm sorry. I just assumed-"</p><p>"No worries, Beverly." Hannibal gave her a small smile. "I will see what I can do about tonight. Send me your address." </p><p>Beverly's smile returned in full force. "He loves you, you know. He'll never admit it, but he's head over heels. The last time I saw him get like this he was picking up that terrier from the shelter before they could put him down." </p><p>Hannibal's brows furrowed. "I'm so relieved that between us is strictly puppy love." </p><p>Beverly laughed. "That's not how I meant it and you know it, Dr. Hotass." Beverly glanced up and over Hannibal's shoulder and Hannibal assumed that Will was finally returning. Her smile became warm. "I'm glad he has you." Her voice was softer now. "I never could have been here for him like that, not that he would ever let me again after some of the sticky situations we blindly fell into." </p><p>Hannibal's brows rose and he had to assume she was talking about their tumble into bed together years prior, but it also made him curious if they had more to them than that. </p><p>Hannibal looked up as Will sat down, looking miserable and pale. Hannibal frowned and reached out to carefully rub at the left side of Will's back. </p><p>"I need to be returning to work, Will." Will gave a small nod and Hannibal rose to his feet, straightening his suit sleeves. "Beverly, please keep him hydrated if he refuses to go home and rest." </p><p>"Of course," she said happily. </p><p>"As for you Will, doctor's orders. I want you in bed as soon as you get home. You need sleep." </p><p>"Right," Will muttered, lowering his head once more into his hand with an exhausted sigh. </p><p>Hannibal leaned over and did his best to make it look as if he were whispering into Will's ear. He pressed a kiss to Will's temple, slick with sweat. </p><p>"Take care of yourself, dear boy," he whispered before he straightened himself back up and turning to leave the school, hearing an excited squeak from Beverly and a grumbled <em>shut up</em>, from Will. </p>
<hr/><p>The apartment was difficult to find and Hannibal knew that if he didn't have his GPS then he would have been as good as lost just as he had been the first time he had visited Venice’s twisting canals. </p><p>He found a parking spot relatively easily and made his way up a staircase that had a flickering light that reminded him of some horribly made horror movie cliché. But knowing the small amount that he did about Beverly, that was probably a selling point. </p><p>He stopped at the door and knocked at it. Behind the door he could hear some muffled music and voices. It took a moment or two before the door opened and Beverly's grin greeted him, though there was some stress in her brow.</p><p>"-the hell do they expect to be good agents if they can’t tell the difference between motive and modus operandi!" Will's upset voice came from somewhere deeper in the apartment before a cough and Beverly sighed. </p><p>"He's just grading papers," she explained softly. "He usually gets pretty worked up about it." </p><p>"I can tell," Hannibal teased. </p><p>There was a small huff of laughter from the fiber analysis and she stepped back to allow him inside. Hannibal moved into the apartment and glanced around. </p><p>To his left was a fairly decent sized, but dated kitchen with quite a bit of counter and cabinet space. To his right was a long hallway with several closed doors and as he stepped passed the kitchen and a bit further into the apartment, he found the living room. </p><p>There was a single sofa with three respective cushions and a recliner to the side of it. On a TV tray sat a box of tissues, some of them already used and crumbled up beside the box, a glass of something carbonated and a plate of munched on toast. The TV was on and one Miss Elizabeth Bennet was busy talking to Charlotte Lucas about how rude Mr. Darcy was. </p><p>Will sat on the couch, taking up the length of it, tangled in a blanket with a stack of papers in his lap and a red pen in hand. </p><p>It was so interesting to see Will broken down into such a simple state and Hannibal couldn't help but find it endearing. Was he really a man who enjoyed British Romances when sick? Did he enjoy being curled up on the couch with a friend? Was he really this gentle of a soul under everything else? </p><p>"Bev, can I have some more saltines?" he asked, pen scraping against the paper on his lap. "And a beer or something? I'm going to tear my hair out if one more person..." Will looked up and trailed off as his eyes landed on Hannibal. </p><p>"No beer," Beverly scolded, heading for the kitchen.</p><p>"I thought I told you to be in bed and sleeping," Hannibal teased, stepping over to the couch. Will’s hand tightened on his pen and Hannibal could see the way his adams apple bobbed with a swallow. </p><p>"I thought you had a prior engagement," Will shot back in a soft and shocked voice. </p><p>Beverly passed by Hannibal with a knowing smile and tossed a white plastic sleeve of crackers at Will before heading back to the kitchen. "Pretty boy slept for an hour or two earlier," Beverly explained. Hannibal gave a nod in understanding, glancing over his shoulder to watch Beverly rummage around the kitchen. "I have some leftover enchiladas from yesterday if you'd like some." </p><p>"If you microwave that shit, I'm gonna hurl again," Will threatened, fake gagging. </p><p>Hannibal smiled. "I ate before I came. Thank you Beverly," he said and Beverly nodded, closing the fridge with her own beer. She held one out to Hannibal who politely declined and she shrugged, heading over to collapse in the recliner. </p><p>She opened her beer and took a sip, pulling her knees up to her chest before looking over Hannibal. "You can sit down, you know. Your legs work and all?" </p><p>Hannibal glanced over at Will who looked embarrassed enough for the both of them. He quickly pulled his legs in and created enough room at the edge of the couch. Hannibal smiled and made his way to the couch, removing his suit coat before draping it over the arm of the couch and taking a seat. </p><p>He glanced over at Will who was staring at him, still seeming stunned that he was there, but slowly reached for the sleeve of crackers and opened it, taking a bite of one and focusing back on his papers. </p><p>The silence that filled the room was comfortable and Hannibal let himself fall into it, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. Beverly eventually started to doze off and Hannibal would momentarily glance at Will when he made a movement to get a drink or blow his nose. He had an adorable little curl to his mouth and scrunch of his nose that tilted his glasses when he was frustrated and the markings of his pen were a little louder than before. </p><p>There was a press against Hannibal’s thigh that pulled his attention over to the empath whose feet had slid back across the couch, though he seemed more lost in his work than what he was physically doing. Hannibal let a warm smile cover his lips and slipped a hand down to caress Will’s foot over the blanket. He kept his eyes on the TV, but could feel the way that Will stiffened and how those blue eyes snapped from their work, the pen falling silent. </p><p>Hannibal gave a reassuring squeeze before his thumb once more went to massaging Will’s ankle. The pen started up again, but it didn’t last long before there was a tired sigh and in the corner of his eye, Hannibal could see Will reach up and pull his unnecessary glasses from his nose to toss them onto the TV tray. He rubbed at his tired blue eyes with a deep breath before adjusting the papers once more on his lap. </p><p>His pen tapped against the pages for a moment in dissatisfaction at whatever he was reading and then the tip went between his teeth. The pen was already decently chewed on and Hannibal quickly stored away the small habit that Will had. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was meant to do with that information or with the information that Will’s knee bounced when he became further irritated, but it was all locked away in his memory in a room specifically built just for Will Graham. </p><p>“Idiots,” Will hissed around the pen before lowering it to the page to circle something before writing something in the margins. “If I hear one more time that BTK was innovative and not just a copycat, I might burn down the school.” </p><p>“I didn’t think of you as someone who dabbled in arson,” Hannibal stated, though he kept his immediate focus on a rather lovely walk to Netherfield Park to seem disinterested. </p><p>Will’s pen stopped once more and he looked up. Hannibal’s gaze flickered over to see a confused look on his face for a moment as if he hadn’t known that he had spoken out loud. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his work. </p><p>“My means to obtain excitement, thrills, attention and or recognition are far more advanced than petty arson,” Will muttered, a flush coming to his cheeks that Hannibal would let pass as the fever instead of embarrassment. Hannibal’s lips tipped into a smile and he gave Will’s foot another squeeze. </p><p>“If BTK wasn’t innovative, who would you consider as such?” </p><p>The pen stopped once more and Hannibal finally turned his attention from Netherfield Park and to the profiler with a red nose, pale skin and damp curls. Will looked over him curiously for a moment as if gauging to see if Hannibal really was interested or just making conversation. He must have decided on the former because answered, pen tapping against the paper again. </p><p>“Dennis Rader based many of his kills, stylings and callings on serial killers like Ted Bundy and he was pathetic. He named himself and blamed others for his issues. At least Jeffery Dahmer admitted that he was the problem.” Will gave a huff and rolled his eyes. “If you want my personal opinion...” Will paused a brow raised, waiting for confirmation. </p><p>“Your ideas are always insightful, dear boy,” Hannibal praised, receiving a small smile for his efforts. </p><p>“Israel Keyes is who I find truly innovative.” </p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t know the name.” </p><p>“Most don’t.” There was a mischievous glint in Will’s eyes and his smile became brighter, words slurred with how quickly they were being said. “He was a rather quiet killer. He’s only been suspected of eight kills, though I’m certain there are far more. He was special. He would plan meticulously. He would plant kill kits around the US.” </p><p>Will’s accent had become fully present and Hannibal did his best to not fall into the butteriness that came with the drawl. “The authorities have been able to find some of them, but for his job he traveled from California to New York and everywhere in between constantly, as well as internationally. That’s why they think his kill count might be higher. He also didn’t have a victim profile. Bundy would go after women who had the same hairstyle as his ex, but Keyes didn’t have a preferred type and all of his victims were victims of opportunity, which only makes him hard to track. He didn’t keep trophies and he also committed other crimes besides just killing. He would rob banks and set fires and-” Will broke off, his head tipping to the side, eyes carefully flickering over Hannibal. “Why are you looking at me like that?” </p><p>Hannibal’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he couldn’t remove the found smile on his lips. “Like what?” he questioned, only receiving a frown. </p><p>“Like you care what I’m saying.” </p><p>“I do care what you’re saying.” Hannibal cared a great deal. Will’s mind was a wondrous thing to try to untangle and his excitement only made Hannibal’s enjoyment that much greater. It would be a shame to lose it, but it was a necessary evil. Or that’s what he had to keep telling himself. “Please continue.” </p><p>Will stared at him for a moment longer in assessment before he started speaking again. “He was caught after stealing one of his victim’s debit cards and using it.” Will waved his hand as if that were a fact that didn’t really matter. “And when he was being interrogated, he kept mentioning all of these different places nonchalantly where other murders happened. Like one place he mentioned was this lake that he liked to spend a lot of time around in Washington, another was a property he had up in New York. Anyway, between all the back and forth and what not he said: <em>You will only know if I killed people if I tell you I killed them. All of my victims are just missing persons and you would never think to connect me to them.</em> You can watch his interviews online. They’re entertaining to try to dissect.” Will paused once more, and Hannibal slid his hand over Will’s shin to persuade him to keep talking. “You don’t want to hear about this.” </p><p>“Why would I not want to hear what you have to say?” Hannibal asked back kindly. “It’s something that you find interesting and you’re clearly excited to share it with me.” </p><p>Will gave a single shoulder shrug, pen going back between his teeth as he thought over his answer. “I don’t know. I know Bev blocks me out and Brian and Zeller ignore me to the point where I can stop mid-sentence and I doubt they knew I was talking at all.</p><p>Jack barely lets me get a word in at all and my father...” Will gave a deep sigh, sucking the pen into his mouth. </p><p>“Was an asshole,” Beverly muttered from her chair, still clearly half asleep. She readjusted her body and fell silent once more. </p><p>Will waited until her breathing leveled out again and lowered his voice. “You’re the first one who has engaged with me fully in a conversation and hasn’t checked out when I started listing copious amounts of facts.” There was an airy laugh and Will shook his head, the pen now going to his temple to get tangled up in his curls. “I’m not used to this much undivided attention on me. Even when we’re alone one of us is cooking or washing or doing something.” </p><p>“My attention is never divided when it comes to you,” Hannibal assured softly and Will’s lips twitched into a shocked smile. He looked away from Hannibal and licked his lips, twisting the pen in his hair. </p><p>It never was divided. Not since that moment they met. Everything had been consumed by Will. Every last thought had Will in it. If Will wasn’t the center or the focus, then he was surely the comparison or the person Hannibal would turn to for an opinion on whatever matter he was working on. </p><p>“And you don’t seem to be struggling with the amount of attention that I place on you,” Hannibal pointed out. “You’re being excellently sociable.” </p><p>Will snorted, hand dropping back into his lap and his tongue trailed over his teeth while eyes turned up to the ceiling in thought. “You’re different, Hannibal. You’re not like the rest of them.” </p><p>Hannibal smiled warmly, letting his hand move to Will’s other foot to gently caress at that one and show it the same attention. “What happened to Keyes?” Hannibal pressed, admiring the way that Will’s smile lit up the room. </p><p>“He confessed to this one murder that was across the US and although the bodies couldn’t be found, there was enough circumstantial evidence that they were positive he did commit the crime. And he told them that he had left a kill kit there two year earlier for if he ever just decided to travel back to that place.</p><p>“The FBI thought that since he had committed that crime with how often he traveled that they would be able to finally get answers on so many cases, because while Keyes hinted at eight murders, most think that he is one of the most prolific serial killers in the US. But he got fed up with the plea bargains that were being given to him. He didn’t want to testify about the sexual aspects of his crimes or want the public to know about them, so he killed himself in his jail cell while awaiting trial for his last victim.” </p><p>“Did he leave a note?” Hannibal asked curiously. </p><p>“It was a dead end ode to death. Like poetry. It didn’t lead anywhere.” Will let out a deep breath. “He’s a special kind of crazy. If you delve into his note and his travel logs with missing person’s cases you’ll get sucked into this back hole of information and there’s just too much to dig through and fully explore.” </p><p>“You sound like you speak from experience,” Hannibal teased and the quiet shrug he received only made him smile. “You tried, didn’t you?” </p><p>“I mean,” Will started, avoiding Hannibal’s eyes. “I was young then. Just getting cleaned up and starting the academy when he was found. He was so interesting to me because I could-” Will stopped, eyes moving over to where Beverly was in the recliner, but Hannibal could feel the hesitance at Will finishing the sentence in case she were awake again. But Hannibal didn’t need Will to finish his sentence. He knew exactly what Will meant. </p><p>
  <em>There was finally someone I could see myself in. </em>
</p><p>Will cleared his throat and set his assignments aside on the TV tray. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Did you want to keep watching? Or maybe we could put on something else?” </p><p>Hannibal noted the subject change carefully, a nervousness in it. But it wasn't nervousness at being caught or overheard. It took Will’s eyes once more avoiding his for him to understand that Will was nervous about being around him. So interesting that such a sudden foundationless worry could drive Will into small talk. </p><p>“This is fine, dear boy,” Hannibal assured softly. Will nodded and leaned back against the arm of the couch, eyes on the TV. “Are you comfortable? Is there anything you need?” </p><p>“I should probably take some more medicine. I can feel the edge sinking back in.” </p><p>Without more of a prompt, Hannibal pushed himself to his feet to accomplish the task. “Where would that be?” </p><p>“There’s some things in my bag. By my shoes, front door. Main pocket,” Will replied, eyes closing as he further relaxed into the couch. Hannibal’s finger hooked the knot of his tie and tugged on it as he passed by the couch to fetch Will’s bag. A hand snatched up his cuff and he glanced down at Will who looked like he was on the edge of sleep. “Thank you.” </p><p>Hannibal nodded and Will’s hand released his, dropping back to across his chest as his eyes closed again.  </p><p>Hannibal located Will's bag and picked it up from the floor, the leather well used and starting to fall apart. It was probably from a thrift store if Hannibal had to guess. Old and loved just as everything else was in Will’s life. Used until it fell apart and could no longer be put back together just as any poor upbrought person would do. </p><p>Hannibal dug into the bag, finding a box of medicine. He pulled it free and stopped at an overturned file with a familiar silhouette in one of the pictures. Hannibal glanced back over to the fairly dead living room to check on the occupants before he pulled the file from the bag. </p><p>The manila folder fell open into his palm and he stared at a picture of himself. He stood in his office parking lot and was greeting Margot Verger into the office. The next picture was the same. One from that morning. </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes flickered up to a head of curly hair on the couch, a sick feeling rattling through his stomach. Someone was following him and he was certain that it was Will. Will must have taken the pictures and driven back to campus in time for his lecture. He could have printed the pictures off after Hannibal had left the school grounds. </p><p>He flipped through the file, only finding more pictures of Margot and him. Some from his office window that could just barely be seen through the closed curtains. And then another few of Margot leaving the office, but nothing else. He closed the file and let it fall back into the bag, before setting the bag back beside Will’s shoes. The box of NyQuil was looked over carefully and he pulled it open, finding only two more pills. It would be easy enough to misjudge how much was left in the box. </p><p>Hannibal shoved the plastic and foil sleeve back into the box and made his way over to the trash can, dropping the box into the pile of trash, before pulling an emptied cereal box over the top of it. His chest strained as his mind fought over the information he had just been given. </p><p>Will had lied about Margot. She had possibly caught him and confronted him. That’s how they had met. And if Will was there and documenting everything, then Hannibal really was just the fish ready to snap at the lure. How many other pictures did Will have of him? He couldn’t risk it. Dangerous little boy. </p><p>“Will, it seems you were out,” Hannibal stated as he moved back towards the couch. </p><p>Will sat up a little more with a confused look on his face. He shook his head. “No. I thought I still had a few more left.” </p><p>“The box was empty,” Hannibal pressed, watching as Will carefully pushed himself upright with his good arm. “Would Beverly have-” </p><p>“No,” Will muttered, pressing the heel of his hand into one of his eyes as he yawned. “I don’t know where any would be and I don’t want to wake her. I’ll be fine.” </p><p>The words were bitter on his tongue as he feigned his concern. “I insist that you-” </p><p>“I’ll just try to sleep it off. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.” Will rubbed at his other eye before turning to look up at Hannibal with a grateful smile. “Already feeling better as is.” </p><p>Hannibal only stared at Will, unsure if he should move closer or stay where he was. If he should retrieve his suit coat and leave or just leave it behind. “Come sit back down?” </p><p>It was a gentle request, not a demand in any way. Will must have been able to read him, sense the tension that had set into his shoulders and the way his hands were fists at his side. Will’s smile dropped slightly as his eyes followed the length of Hannibal’s body and he slowly pushed himself to his feet. </p><p>“Hannibal?” he asked, stepping around the mess on the TV tray and limping his way towards the doctor. Hannibal didn’t answer and found that he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from Will when Will stretched out a hand and rested it against Hannibal’s cheek, Will’s skin damp and clammy. “What is it? You’re distant again.” </p><p>“Just worried, dear boy,” Hannibal muttered. Will’s head tipped to the side and his thumb gently caressed over Hannibal’s cheekbone. “I should go. Let you rest.” Will’s face twisted to something hurt. “I’m just a distraction.” </p><p>“N-No,” Will argued weakly with a shake of his head. His hand dropped from Hannibal’s cheek and caught up around the back of Hannibal’s neck in an attempt to keep Hannibal in place. “You’re not.” </p><p>Hannibal let a smile pull at his lips, though he didn’t feel it. He reached up and pulled Will’s thinning wrist from its grip easily. He brought Will’s hand to his lips and kissed at Will’s knuckles. </p><p>“Will, I would appreciate-” </p><p>“Stay?” Will tried once more, pushing so close to Hannibal that the man had to take a step back. “Please, stay.” </p><p>Hannibal licked at his lips as the pain in his body tried to strip his flesh from his bones. “I have appointments in the morning, Will. And I am sure you have work in the morning as well if you were serious about what you told Doctor Bloom.” </p><p>Will’s wild blue eyes were desperate. “Just until I’m asleep,” he bargained. Hannibal frowned with a low growl at the fight. Will had to have been able to read the situation, even if he were about to be dragged into his fever’s clutches once more. “Just until I’m asleep.” </p><p>Hannibal wasn’t entirely certain where his resolve went, but it dissolved away instantly like spun sugar when it met water. Maybe it was because he knew how stubborn Will would be, how easily the boy overreacted and then acted without thought. He couldn’t afford another spineless insult. Not so soon. Not to mention that with Will’s head on fire, there was no telling what exactly he would do when upset. </p><p>“Couch,” Hannibal instructed with a sigh. Will nodded, childlike in the way he immediately obeyed. Hannibal followed after the man, sitting once more at the far end of the couch, legs crossed, while Will sat on the opposite side. “Lay down, close your eyes.”</p><p>Hannibal’s elbow rested on the arm of the couch and his hand covered his mouth as his eyes went back to the show that was still continuing on without a care in the world. He stared at the screen, listening to the screeching of a rather overly dramatic older woman.</p><p>“But your father is determined to be cruel.” </p><p>The couch beside Hannibal shifted slightly, pulled down with weight, but he ignored it.</p><p>“I confess I am,” an older gentleman answered the woman. “I’m sorry to be breaking so many hearts, but I have not the smallest intention of yielding.”</p><p>Will had the curious talent of being able to force himself into any space he wanted in any position he wanted and Hannibal found himself unable to fight the movements. His leg was forced back to the floor as a pillow was shoved into his lap and his arm raised naturally at the intrusion, giving Will the right amount of time and space he needed to lay his head down on the pillow. </p><p>He pulled the blanket over his shivering form, chills coming for him, and nuzzled his face into the pillow with a deep sigh. His eyes were closed and he curled up tightly on the couch, somehow making himself pushed as tightly as he could against Hannibal. </p><p>Hannibal stared at him for a long moment before he finally let his arm come to rest beside Will’s shoulder, cautious to not bump it. His fingers found themselves naturally tangled up in Will’s curls and the younger man gave a small sound of approval. </p><p>“Insolent child,” he whispered, but either Will didn’t hear him or had already fallen asleep, because he didn’t answer. Hannibal’s eyes returned to the TV where two sisters were cutting flowers from their garden, the blonde one speaking rather sadly. </p><p>“I did believe he...” she sighed. “Well, I was mistaken, that is all. I am resolved to think of him no more. There. Enough. I shall be myself again, as if I had never set eyes on him. I shall be perfectly content.” </p><p>If only that were enough. If only it were that simple. If only Hannibal could find a way to be perfectly content while watching the dearest thing in his life come apart in his hands by his own doing. </p><p>There. Enough. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Knew it all along, I would do you wrong. I should’ve tried harder, fed all those lies to you, but my blackened soul lets you come in close.”<br/>― The Sweeplings, Fool</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys. Sorry it's taken a bit to get this chapter out. I'm not sick anymore and therefore am back at work, so a lot of time is being taken back up. Haha. But I do have the rest of the story planned out and I hope you enjoy!</p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                     </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal had spent the next several days with little to no contact from Will and to be honest, the space gave him room to breathe. It gave him room to detox himself from the profiler and clear his foggy head. </p><p>Or that was what he had wanted to do with the time, but constant messages from both Beverly and Jack to give him nearly hourly updates on the man’s condition plagued his days. He was more grateful for Beverly’s updates than Jack’s, but it was enough for Hannibal to finally turn his phone off. If his patients needed him, they could call his office line and he would check it later in the day. </p><p>That day was more focused on his patients and then his swim before trying to make dinner. He had nearly forgotten about his phone until the screen again lit up. Hannibal gave an annoyed sigh and set his knife aside, wiping his hands on a dish towel before picking up his phone. He was firmly going to ignore anything that came from either of those three people, Will included, when a different name appeared on his screen. A name that had called him several times as well as left him several voicemails and texts. </p><p>He hurried to answer the call, placing the phone to his ear. “Alana?” he asked. “Is everything alright?” </p><p>“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours!” she scolded through the line. </p><p>“What’s wrong, Alana?” </p><p>“I have been dealing with Will. He won’t listen to any of us,” she explained in a hurried tone and Hannibal listened silently, unsure what to say. Half of his body was tugging him in Will’s direction, wanting to check on the man and see what was wrong. The other half was telling Hannibal to let it be. If they were so worried about Will they could take him to the hospital and let them deal with it. “He’s having a breakdown. According to Jack, you’re the only one who's been able to calm him down.” </p><p>“Is Miss Katz there?” Hannibal asked instead, his legs burning with a nervous energy that made him want to move, but he forced himself to stay in place. </p><p>“We’ve been trying to get to him, Hannibal. When you weren’t answering, Jack called me. I’ve never known you to not answer your phone.” </p><p>“Get to him?” Hannibal’s fingers tapped on the counter, dinner completely forgotten. “What do you mean?” </p><p>“He’s unresponsive. He freaked out at this crime scene and has been sitting in the back of an ambulance in a shock blanket for hours.” </p><p>“I’m not entirely sure what it is you would like me to do.” </p><p>Hannibal’s weight shifted to his other foot and he bit his lip. <em>Remember the pictures</em> replayed like a mantra in his head. Over and over and over to hold his resolve strong. But was he ever strong with Will? </p><p>“It’s almost as if he’s suffering from UWS,” Alana further explained. “I know that’s not what it is, but-”</p><p>“Unresponsive wakefulness?” Hannibal interrupted with a shake of his head. “I doubt that, but either way, if he’s in shock or extreme distress, he needs to be taken to the hospital.” </p><p>“He wasn’t injured. It’s psychological. He needs to be removed from the scene, but he won’t leave.” Alana sounded exhausted, as if she was far past her limits. “He’ll snap out of it.” </p><p>“Move him then. Jack’s a strong man. Have him physically-”</p><p>“He keeps saying your name,” Alana cut in. “Anytime one of us tries to touch him, he shoves us away and just repeats your name until he falls silent again.” </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes closed tightly. “I’ve already told Jack that I was not going to be at Will’s beck and call and-” </p><p>“Hannibal.” Alana’s voice was stern and nearly sounded like a shout, causing Hannibal to pause. He had never heard the woman’s voice quite like this before and guilt flooded through him at the distance he was desperately trying to keep. “Will is your patient and you are as responsible for his welfare, as Jack is. And you promised. You promised, Hannibal.” </p><p>
  <em>Promise me something, Hannibal. Don’t let Will get too close.</em>
</p><p>Hannibal scowled as the promise swam to the forefront of his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply, eyes closed. He inhaled and stood upright, leaving the kitchen to find his coat and keys, dinner forgotten and left right where it was. </p><p>“What’s the address?” Hannibal asked. </p>
<hr/><p>Lights decorated the night, the blues and red dancing among trees and against the pale paint of the farmhouse that was outside of the city. It reflected off the snow and made the ice look eerie. </p><p>Hannibal stepped from his Bentley, his breath hanging deadly in the air as he pulled his coat tighter around himself. He looked over the area that was surrounded by halogen work lights on tripods. People were carefully stepping around a figure in the snow and Hannibal stepped closer, only to be stopped by Jack when he was spotted. </p><p>“I wouldn’t suggest going over there,” Jack warned, face a little more ashen than it normally was. “It's soup over there.” </p><p>“Soup isn’t always good for the soul,” Hannibal muttered, stepping past Jack. </p><p>“Will is-” </p><p>“How am I meant to assist Will if I don’t know what he witnessed?” Hannibal called, without turning back to the head of the BAU. He continued through well-worn prints in the snow until he came to stand beside Beverly, who looked just as numb as everyone else did. </p><p>“Hey,” she whispered without looking over. </p><p>“Good evening,” Hannibal greeted just as softly. </p><p>“I wish it were.” Beverly inhaled deeply. “Did you see Will?” </p><p>“I will once I understand this mess.” </p><p>Hannibal stepped a little closer, stopping at the last footstep in the snow beside the body. Blood had seeped into and saturated the snow and melted it until it was a black and gooey mess. Hannibal’s eyes followed the puddle to the woman who was senselessly brutalized, even for Hannibal’s taste. </p><p>The body lied naked in the middle of the blood, the shoulders flat but the axis of the body inclined to the left side. The head was turned on the left cheek. The left arm was close to the body with the forearm flexed at a right angle and laying across her abdomen. The right arm was slightly hidden under the angle of the body. The elbow was bent enough to show the right hand with fingers clenched around a handful of brown grass from under the snow. Down her arms were several jagged wounds. </p><p>The whole surface of the ribs, abdomen and thighs were removed, showing the abdominal cavity to be emptied of all of its viscera. The uterus and kidneys were under her head, holding it up. The liver lay between the feet, the intestines by her right hip and the spleen by her left. The skin removed from the abdomen and the thighs were further away, somewhere by the front porch steps. </p><p>Her face was gashed in all directions, hacked beyond recognition. The nose, cheeks, eyebrows, and ears were partly removed. The lips were blanched and cut by several incisions running down the chin. </p><p>Her neck was severed all around and right down to the vertebrae, the fifth and sixth having been deeply notched by whatever object had been used to do the job. The air passage was cut at the lower part of the larynx and through the cricoid cartilage. </p><p>The intercostals between the fourth, fifth and sixth ribs were cut through and the contents of the thorax were visible through the openings. The right lung was minimally bruised as if it had been squeezed, but otherwise intact. The lower part of the left lung was torn away, though Hannibal couldn’t seem to locate where the rest of it had gone.  </p><p>Her heart was also absent and Hannibal glanced around, once more unable to find the organ. </p><p>The left calf showed a long gash through the skin and tissues, deep into the muscles and reaching from the knee to five inches above the ankle. The right leg looked unharmed save for the skin that had been removed at the thigh. </p><p>“Doctor Lecter?” Beverly asked after a few more moments passed in silence. Hannibal turned away from the body and made his way back to Beverly’s side. “I’ve never seen him like this before. I’ve seen him have panic attacks and I’ve seen him go silent and I’ve seen him be sick, but I’ve never watched him contaminate a scene before.” </p><p>“Contaminate?” Hannibal’s brows furrowed and he turned back to the body to look over it once more. </p><p>“I’m sure it's settled all back in now since the blood is so watered down from the snow,” Beverly said, voice lowering and finally her dark eyes flickered up to meet Hannibal’s. “He took the murder weapon and stood over her. Dropped to his knees and was about to...” Beverly shook her head in disbelief. “It was like he was sleepwalking or something. He seemed to wake up before he did anything to her and jumped off of her, just gasping for air.” </p><p>“Sleepwalking,” Hannibal repeated with a small nod. “Right.” </p><p>“You’re awfully steady,” Beverly remarked and Hannibal tried to give her a light smile. </p><p>“I did work in the ER. It’s not my first time seeing a person’s innards outside of their body.” Hannibal went to step past her, but stopped, a hand reaching out and taking her shoulder. She looked up with worry in her glistening eyes. “He’ll be ok,” he assured and he wasn’t sure how there was truth in the words, but there was. Something about the comment was completely truthful. “Don’t worry.” </p><p>Beverly gave a small nod and turned to where Brian was calling her over to him. Hannibal took the opportunity to move from the poor girl left cold in the snow and went in the direction that Jack had pointed to with a huff. </p><p>An ambulance waited with lights winking into the wintery night. It sat there, creating a sharp contrast to the space around it, as if there was a cutting breath that needed to be held when Hannibal stepped up to it. He wasn’t sure if there had ever been a place that better fit the idea of a liminal space than this ambulance did at this moment, a primal scream hidden somewhere on the air and waiting to be released. </p><p>Will sat on the back of it, the doors open to show the rest of the ambulance where two men in crisp white shirts were quietly chatting, glancing at Will every so often. Will was wrapped in a deep green blanket, face pale behind his glasses and unruly curls. His blue eyes were distant and unfocused. His hands held the blanket around him in a vice grip, hands absolutely caked in rusty colored, drying blood. </p><p>Beside him stood Alana, bundled up against the cold, obviously whispering something to Will, her breath floating away into the night, but Hannibal couldn’t make out what she was saying. But by the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, Hannibal assumed they were pleas for Will to snap out of it. </p><p>Her hand rested on his shoulder and he shrugged out of it, the muttering of Hannibal’s own name on Will’s lips for a moment or two before Will fell silent. </p><p>Hannibal stopped beside Alana who went stiff and looked over him with disdain curled into her red lips. She folded her arms over her chest and took a small step back, as if telling Hannibal <em>good luck.</em></p><p>Hannibal looked over the man once more, taking in the way he was trembling, probably from the cold. His hand reached out and brushed over Will’s cheek, an unnatural heat under his palm. Sweat glistened over Will’s skin and his curls were damp with it. </p><p>“Did any of you check what temperature his fever is at?” Hannibal asked, causing the two medics to fall silent and look over at him curiously. Both of them gave a small shake of their heads and Hannibal frowned, dislike coloring his insides. “Would one of you like to do your job, please?” </p><p>One of them jumped up and went to work, allowing Hannibal to turn his attention back to Will who hadn't pulled from his grip yet. Hadn’t shoved him off like he had Alana. His eyes were still unfocused and there was no response, but he had to be somewhere in there, had to know somewhere deep down that Hannibal was there. </p><p>Hannibal glanced up as a thermometer was outstretched and Hannibal snatched it up before the medic could do the rest of his job. </p><p>“Sir, I-” </p><p>“Hush,” Hannibal instructed the young man and the kid fell quiet immediately. Hannibal placed the device at one side of Will’s head and swiped it across Will’s forehead. It took a moment for it to register, but there was a beeping that made Will wince and Hannibal stared at the numbers on the small device. “He has a temperature of 104. He needs to be taken to the hospital.” He passed the thermometer back to the medic and brushed Will’s hair back and out of his eyes. “Alana, will you let Jack know that Will needs to be hospitalized?” </p><p>“Yes,” Alana answered with a nod, heading off into the direction of Jack. </p><p>Hannibal glanced back up at the medics who had finally taken the hint and one got some bottles of water to wash the blood from Will’s hands and set them beside Will, the other getting an IV ready to go. Hannibal turned his attention back to Will, both cheeks being cupped in his hands. </p><p>“Will,” he whispered, thumbs caressing over Will’s cheekbones. “I need you to focus on me. We need to get you cleaned up.” Will didn’t react, didn’t reply. He simply continued to tremble. Hannibal sighed and tried to tip Will’s head up for their gaze to meet. “Will.” When there was still no answer, Hannibal dropped his hands and tried to pull at the blanket around Will to clean his hands, but Will’s grip held strong. A grip much stronger than Hannibal thought the man processed. </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply, unsure exactly what to do. Will needed a jolt. Something to snap him awake. Maybe a slap. Hannibal grimaced at the idea of hitting the man. Even if Hannibal had dreamt before of cutting Will open with a scalpel to see all of his insides ticking, the thought of outright hurting Will with something like a slap was unappealing. </p><p>Hannibal glanced around to find both the paramedics busy with setting up items in the ambulance and looked over his shoulder to find Jack and Alana arguing. The other three team members were fully occupied with the body in the snow. </p><p>With a deep breath, Hannibal turned back to Will, hands gently taking Will’s face and he pressed a kiss to Will’s lips. They were hot like the sun, on fire with his fever. Soft and yielding under his touch. It seemed for a moment that Will wouldn’t respond. There was no reaction from him. </p><p>
  <em>Where do you go when you do that?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It usually happens when there’s too much going on around me. I think my mind tries to pull me in so it can block everything else out until it's safe. I usually end up in my creek, fishing.</em>
</p><p>There was a sharp inhale and Hannibal pulled back. Will was gasping loudly for air as if he had been holding his breath and his eyes darted around nervously. He shook violently with chattering teeth, cold from the winter night, sweat and chills. </p><p>“Will?” </p><p>“Hannibal?” Will asked, eyes flickering up to meet Hannibal’s concerned gaze. “Wh-where am I? What’s happ-”</p><p>“Shh,” Hannibal instructed softly, fingers brushing back his curls that were now so slick with sweat they stayed pushed back. “We’re taking you to the hospital, alright?” Will’s whole face twisted to confusion and he tried to pull from Hannibal’s grasp to look around. “Your fever has reached an unsafe temperature.” Hannibal pulled Will’s face back to look at him. “You don’t need to focus over there. It’s already done enough damage.” </p><p>“Will is not going to the hospital,” a loud voice bellowed from somewhere behind Hannibal and Will jumped, eyes going over Hannibal’s shoulder. </p><p>“Will, clean your hands, please. I will handle this,” Hannibal instructed with a gentle smile, a finger caressing over Will’s jawline before he pulled back. He turned his way back to where Alana and Jack were arguing and made his way over to it. Jack stopped and glanced over Hannibal. “He’s going to the hospital. That is non-negotiable.” </p><p>“He contaminated the crime scene. He can't leave until we document what it was he touched and take pictures to make sure it’s all catalogued,” Jack replied quickly. “He is more than welcome to go to the hospital as soon as we have everything documented.” </p><p>“Then get Miss Katz over there to take pictures of his hands so I can take my patient to the hospital,” Hannibal instructed, voice low and harsh as he pointed to where Beverly was. “She needs to hurry. He’s not-” </p><p>“Will!” Alana called and Hannibal turned around to find the man had discarded the blanket in the ambulance and was stepping through the crunching snow and towards where the body laid. Will didn’t acknowledge his name, just kept walking. </p><p>Hannibal watched curiously, slowly following, as Will came to a stop beside the body, looking over it with a tipped head. His bloody hands rested at his sides and he just stood there, staring. </p><p>“Will?” Beverly asked, stepping over to the man when she noticed him there. Her hand took shoulder and he jumped from her grip as if he had been burnt by her touch. His gaze dropped down to his hands and they trembled when he caught sight of the blood. He stumbled away from the body, shoulders rising and falling with his hyperventilating breath. His dirtied hands covered his mouth and he turned back around with tears rolling down his cheeks. “Will.” Beverly followed after him as Will unsteady stepped back towards Hannibal. </p><p>There was a heaviness that settled into Hannibal’s body as Will knocked into his chest, hiding himself there as if Hannibal would protect him. Hannibal hugged Will tightly as the man cried into his chest. </p><p>“Beverly, would you please come take your needed pictures?” Hannibal asked as his fingers tangled into Will’s curls. Will’s breathing was ragged and uneven. Hannibal rested his cheek on Will’s head with a deep breath, meeting Alana’s worried eyes. </p><p>“Sure,” Beverly whispered, adjusting the camera in her hands. “Will, I need to see your hands, please.” </p><p>“Did I do that?” Will gasped out, voice muffled from where he was concealed in Hannibal’s winter coat. He shivered against Hannibal’s body, otherwise unmoving. “Please tell me I didn’t do that!” </p><p>“You didn’t do that,” Jack assured, keeping his distance when Hannibal shot him a warning look. He stopped beside Alana, gaze just as worried. “She was already dead when we got here, Will.” </p><p>“I don’t remember,” Will whispered. “I don’t remember.” </p><p>“Will, I need to see your hands,” Beverly tried to coax once more, but Will only shook his head.</p><p>“<em>Mylimas</em>,” Hannibal said softly. Will stilled instantly at the endearment, though Hannibal doubted he knew what it meant. “Show Beverly your hands, <em>mylimas.” </em>Will pulled from Hannibal’s grip and turned towards his friend, holding out his quivering hands. </p><p>“Will, I need whatever you got,” Jack said and Hannibal couldn’t stop his glare, Alana having the same reaction. </p><p>“Jack,” she scolded bitterly. “You have no bounds of-”</p><p>“He’s a disorganized killer,” Will answered from the prompting, causing Alana to fall silent in her insult. Hannibal turned his attention back to the man whose hands were being lit up like flares with the flash from the camera as Beverly took her needed pictures. “This kill wasn’t planned. There will most likely be evidence, like fingerprints or blood,” Will continued on, voice beginning to shake like a leaf. He swallowed and shook his head. “There was no attempt to conceal the body. He doesn’t know her. He’s probably also mentally ill, suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. He will have deficient communication and social skills. He’ll reside on the fringes of society but will appear frighteningly normal even with his solitary habits.” </p><p>“I need to see your shoes too, Will,” Beverly whispered, trying not to interrupt. </p><p>Will reached out a hand to Hannibal who took it, ignoring the dried blood over Will’s palm and fingers. It wasn’t the first time he had touched blood and it absolutely wouldn’t be the last. Will bent his knee and his balance became nonexistent. Hannibal was swift to step forward and catch the man before he could tumble into the snow. Hannibal met Beverly’s gaze and could see the agonizing distress in the dark pools for the concern she had over her friend. </p><p>“With how she-with how mutilated she is,” Will said, eyes closing tightly. He fell silent, discomfort over his entire persona as Beverly’s camera began clicking again. </p><p>Hannibal leaned over, whispering in the empath’s ear, “You can stop, <em>mylimas.</em> Don’t push yourself.” </p><p>Will shook his head and let out a deep breath. “With how mutilated she is, this man probably fears and hates women. There’s rage here. Anger against women. I would assume it stems from his mother. Ummm...” Will trailed off and let his foot fall back to the ground when Beverly indicated that she needed to see the other one. Will lifted his other foot and Hannibal adjusted his grip to keep a hold of Will’s weight. “This won’t be his first kill. It bears resemblance to one last year. The one that was labeled Field Kabuki by Lounds. My head hurts.” </p><p>“I know, <em>mylimas,</em>” Hannibal assured softly. “We’ll get you help in just a moment. I promise.” </p><p>“Jack, this is ridiculous. Will needs-” </p><p>“Would you let the man work?” Jack shot back at Beverly. </p><p>“Stop exploiting him!” Alana shouted, voice ringing out into the night. </p><p>Will winced as if the voice were too loud and closed his eyes. He licked his lips and shut his eyes tightly as Beverly continued to photograph him from every angle that she could. By this point Hannibal had noticed both Zeller and Price had found their way over to the conversation as well, though they stayed a respective amount away, as if not wanting to intrude on what was happening. </p><p>“He lacks medical know-how, or even the technical knowledge of a butcher or swine slaughterer,” Will muttered, seeming determined to get all of this out either while his mind was still functioning or before he was whisked away. Hannibal couldn’t help but hold to the term swine slaughterer. It struck him as odd that Will would talk about such a thing when the last thing Hannibal had caught Will with were pictures of Margot Verger. “He’ll be subject to periodic attacks of homicidal and erotic mania. The character of the mutilations possibly indicates satyriasis.”</p><p>“You said he hates women,” Jack pointed out. </p><p>Will nodded and lowered his foot back to the ground. “His satyriasis is probably why he does.” Will tried to push himself from Hannibal’s grip, but stumbled once more. Beverly hurriedly stepped in front of Will and helped Hannibal catch him. “Thanks,” Will whispered. His body went slack and Hannibal snatched up Will’s collapsing form, scooping the unconscious man up and into his arms. </p><p>Without so much as a word, Hannibal shifted Will a bit more against his chest for balance and started back towards the ambulance. Jack could be damned if he thought he could keep Will there for one more second. </p>
<hr/><p>Even with Will under medical supervision, Will’s temperature had risen higher between the time it took to leave the crime scene and reach the hospital. Hours had ticked by full of tests and finally Hannibal found himself beside Will’s bedside, in an uncomfortable chair, with a hand over his mouth. </p><p>He watched as the heart monitor jumped up and down with Will’s heart beating and in time of his rather rapid breathing. HIs temperature was now at a steady 105 and his white blood cell count was twice what it should have been. The fever had been determined to be from an infection of the stitches over Will’s calf where there had been no infection before and Hannibal had once more found himself stuck in a constant battle with himself over what to do. </p><p>There was a knock on the door and Hannibal glanced up to see Beverly slowly stepping in, double fisting some coffee cups. She moved closer to Hannibal and held out one of the cups for Hannibal who took it. </p><p>He sat up a little more in his chair and gave Beverly a small smile, watching as the woman made her way to Will’s bedside and brushed back his hair. “He’s burning up,” she whispered. “It’s worse than the other night.” </p><p>“Infection in his leg. Antibiotics will help it,” Hannibal muttered. “He didn’t mention the infection to me.” </p><p>“I didn’t know about it. He was limping, but he’s been limping for the better part of the last two weeks. I didn’t think anything of it,” Beverly explained with a small shrug. She brought her cup up to her lips, but lowered it, looking just as interested in it as Hannibal felt. “He was right, you know. About the body.” </p><p>“What about it?” Hannibal asked, watching the way that Beverly’s hand gently caressed Will’s cheeks.</p><p>“There were fingerprints left. Not on the knife. Will screwed up that evidence pretty badly. But on her ankle, where the knife didn’t cut as well as on the right lung, we were able to pull prints. Price was running them when I left.” Beverly glanced over her shoulder and to Hannibal, something wet and shiny in her eyes. Tears possibly, though Hannibal didn’t see Beverly as the crying type. She wouldn’t cry, but there was sadness there. “Can you-is there...” Beverly sighed and stepped away from Will’s bedside, coming to stand beside Hannibal who stood and offered the chair to the woman. She shook her head, her long hair falling into her eyes. “Is there anything you can do to take him out of field work?” </p><p>“You want him out of field work?” Hannibal asked back slowly, unsure he had heard the words correctly. “He’s-”</p><p>“I know what he is,” Beverly assured, voice a bit sharper than normal, but Hannibal dismissed it as stress and worry. “I know the way his mind works and exactly why Jack keeps pulling him back in, but it’s not good for him. It’s never been good for him.” </p><p>“He’s saving people,” Hannibal pointed out carefully, the same words that Will had thrown at him in argument being used against Beverly.   </p><p>“I don’t care about the lives he saves. I’m his friend and I care about his life and his life is separating from reality,” Beverly shot back desperately. “And I know you can see it too. I know you want him out of the field just as much as I do.” </p><p><em>For different reasons, I’m sure,</em> Hannibal thought to himself with a sigh. </p><p>“Of course I do,” Hannibal assured with a small nod. “I’m not doing his psychological evaluation this time though. I’m sure I could have input with Alana, but she’s the one signing him off on it because he’s not technically my patient. Which is honestly for the best at the moment.” </p><p>Beverly nodded in understanding and glanced back at her friend, a hand once more brushing back his dark curls. “I’ll discuss it with Alana,” Beverly said determinedly. “It’ll crush him, but he can’t keep doing this.” </p><p>“Was it really that bad?” Hannibal stepped a little closer to the bed, eyes flickering over the fevered boy still unconscious in his hospital bed with wires and tubes all over his gown covered body. </p><p>“I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was like he was a different person.” Beverly’s nose crinkled up and she shook her head as she climbed back through the memory. “Like he was the killer. I’ve never been so terrified of a person as I was of him. It was like watching a butterfly turn into a bear.” </p><p>Hannibal tipped his head to the side as he tried to picture Will, drunk with fever and delusion, being overtaken by the killer, maybe his own personal killer, and picking up a knife to gut a woman. Straddling her body with a blade in hand, covered in her blood. </p><p>The picture was quite glorious, though Hannibal was certain he had embellished certain parts of it. And now that he had a mental picture of what Will’s hands looked like covered in blood, he couldn’t help but compare it to the fabric of the tie he had been wearing when Will had snatched it up. It didn’t compare. Will’s delicately pale fingers colored the most extraordinary black instead of crimson. </p><p>“He told me,” Beverly continued on softly, “that his sleepwalking has gotten worse.” </p><p>“He didn’t mention anything to me.” </p><p>Beverly looked up in disbelief with brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m beginning to wonder if he tells you anything.” </p><p>“I am as well.” </p><p>Hannibal watched the woman sigh and close her eyes, both hands now wrapped around her coffee. She shifted a bit on her feet and her eyes flickered open. “He told me that he woke up in the middle of the forest by his house. Barefoot, covered in mud.” </p><p><em>Mud?</em> Hannibal thought, a small smile pulling at the very corner of his lip at a small change in Will’s breathing. <em>Was it mud, Will?</em></p><p>“He told me he had more time slips too.” Beverly gave an exhausted breath and finally took the chair that Hannibal had offered earlier. She crossed her legs and tilted her head to the side. “Said it was ten at night and he thought he could hear an animal crying out in the field around his house. Went to go look for it and then it was two in the morning and he was barefoot and in the river by his house. His legs were numb and he had to walk back in the snow.”</p><p>“That might be why his stitches got infected,” Hannibal mumbled, looking carefully over Will. “Doing that with his fever is extremely worrying.” </p><p>Beverly bit her index finger between her teeth and nodded. “He’s been weird since Louisiana.” Beverly gave a small snort and rolled her eyes. “Weirder than normal.” Hannibal gave a small smile and turned back to Will, coffee free hand reaching out to take the clammy and sweaty hand of the investigator. “He really feels like a different person.” </p><p>“I would expect being attacked with an axe to be traumatizing.” </p><p>“Has he mentioned anything about it?” Beverly quickly uncrossed her legs and sat up with a hint of worry in her face. “You don’t have to tell me. Even if he isn’t your patient, I don’t want to broach confidentiality. He obviously trusts you with bits of him that I’m not allowed to see.” </p><p>Hannibal didn’t acknowledge the truth of the statement. Will kept just as much from him as he did from Beverly. Everything was perfectly calculated and he only let people see exactly what he wanted people to see. Even while sick, Will held himself together strongly. Even with his mind tearing itself apart, Will was still Will. Would always be Will. He was just that type of person. </p><p>“He won’t tell me,” Hannibal explained. “His answers are the bare minimum, curt and vague like I’ve offended him. He gets defensive.” </p><p>“I feel like he thinks he has to deal with all of these things alone. He’s never really had a support system and I don’t think he honestly knows what to do with one.” Beverly sighed. “How did you wake him up? I’ve never seen him disappear inside of himself like that.” </p><p>“It’s a coping mechanism.” Hannibal stepped back from the bed, rubbing at tired eyes and turned to face Beverly. “A lot of trauma survivors do it. They dissociate themselves from what happened to not have to deal with it because it would break them. Sometimes it can last for hours, days or months. It comes in plenty of different forms as well. If he were to create a new identity and run away for a few months and then come back, then I would have cause for concern. Dissociation isn’t bad as long as they can eventually work through it.” </p><p>“I should have known he’d be like that after Louisiana. After he was stabbed he shutdown too. Not to this extent, but he went silent for a time before he came up here and began working as a teacher. I didn’t even know he had tried to get into the academy until Jack started talking about him.” </p><p>“Beverly?” Hannibal questioned, setting his undrunk coffee aside on a table. “I need you to be honest with me.” Beverly’s brow rose in question. “Why was Will out there tonight? He wasn’t supposed to be allowed back in the field until Alana’s evaluation was complete.” </p><p>“Jack.” </p><p>That was all Beverly had to say. Hannibal knew exactly what Beverly meant by that. It was the same behavior that had gotten Miriam Lass into trouble. Jack being uncaring. Jack only wanted to find the killers no matter the cost. If it cost him agents, then so be it.</p><p>Hannibal just hoped that that wouldn’t someday extend to Beverly. He had grown to enjoy their small conversations as well as her normally snarky attitude that made the room light up. It was a pleasant change from the doom and gloom of some of his patients. </p><p>“That is highly inappropriate,” Hannibal grumbled, unable to keep the dislike from his voice. “Jack knows better.”  </p><p>“He also knows that Will won’t say no. Will wouldn’t turn down the chance to help someone.” </p><p>“He wouldn’t?” Hannibal glanced over Will curiously. How much of that darkness that Hannibal knew Will had was slowly being overtaken by the light? Was it all blurred together? Which side would win out in the end?</p><p>“You kidding? Will would give you the shirt off his back if you asked him to. Just because he doesn’t like people doesn’t mean he isn’t kind. He’s always been empathetic. I think that this is just pushing him too hard though.” </p><p>“Have you eaten, Beverly?” Hannibal asked, turning to her with a small smile. She simply shook her head and Hannibal reached into his pocket, fishing out his wallet. He dug through it and pulled out several bills and held them out to her. “Would you like to pick us up something? I’ll stay with Will.” </p><p>Beverly slowly took the money as if she weren’t exactly sure what to do with it. “You want fast food?” she asked with uncertainty. </p><p>“Whatever you’re in the mood for is perfectly fine,” Hannibal assured. </p><p>A smile broke out over her face and she bit her tongue between her teeth as she glanced between the money in her hand and Hannibal. Hannibal’s brows rose in amusement, mind trying to pinpoint restaurants in the area that Beverly would possibly go to. But she was just as unpredictable as Will. He wasn’t sure what was running through her head. </p><p>“Alright. But when I come back with chili fries and bacon burgers with a cheap beer, I don’t want any complaining.” She shoved the cash into her pocket and gave one more long look over Will before slowly leaving the room. </p><p>When she was gone, Hannibal sat back in his chair with his leg folded and glanced over Will. “When were you going to tell me that your sleepwalking was getting worse?” </p><p>There was a deep inhale from Will before his eyes slowly flickered open and he looked over Hannibal with a small groan before his eyes closed once more. “I didn’t think it important.” </p><p>“You didn’t think it important?” Hannibal did his best to keep his voice level despite the way that he wanted to shake Will to get him to snap out of whatever delusion he was under. </p><p>“When did you know I was awake?” Will shifted just slightly, face tensing up in pain, body obviously too weak to move much more. “Can you shift this pillow a bit? My shoulder hurts.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply, pulling cool air into his heated lungs and got to his feet, moving over to the bed. He reached out for the pillow under Will’s head and Will sat up just enough to allow Hannibal to adjust the cotton to better support his injured shoulder. Will nearly collapsed back into the bed, the fever having taken most of his strength with it. </p><p>“Thank you,” Will whispered, eyes staying closed and head resting back. </p><p>“Barefoot and covered in mud,” Hannibal answered, unable to stop the way his hand reached out to Will and brushed back his curls. "That's when you woke up."</p><p>“It’s cold.” </p><p>“It’s your fever. I can fetch the nurse to give you some more medication.” </p><p>“No.” Will shook his head slightly, the dimmed lights in the room only making the purple rings under Will’s eyes stand out even more than they had been at the crime scene. “Don’t leave me.” </p><p>“It will only take a moment.” </p><p>“You said you would stay.” </p><p>Hannibal sighed and let his fingers run over Will’s cheek. Will leaned into the touch. “You’re incredibly needy when you’re sick,” Hannibal scolded with no real harshness in his tone. How was he supposed to be reprimanding Will when Will was here because it was simply Hannibal’s own fault? That was what all of this boiled down to. If Hannibal would just speak up. Why couldn’t he do it? “I suppose that’s due to never being cared for properly.” </p><p>“Probably,” Will answered with a small nod in agreement, nuzzling a bit closer to Hannibal’s stroking fingers. “You said my leg was infected.” </p><p>“That’s what they think the cause of the fever is,” Hannibal explained. “It could be why your fever hasn’t gone away, but you were sick before your stitches were infected.” </p><p>“Are my stitches ugly?” </p><p>Hannibal’s fingers paused and Will’s eyes flickered open for a moment before he closed them again, possibly too heavily lidded to try to keep them open. “What?” Hannibal asked, shock in his system.  </p><p>“Are my stitches ugly?” Will repeated. His eyes opened again and this time stayed open, only the ice was once more vacant of any light as if Will were right on the border of life and death just as it had been the day he had come home. </p><p>“No. Why would your stitches be ugly?” Hannibal pulled his hand back and picked up one of Will’s hands, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to, the scent of copper still present across Will’s skin. </p><p>“Ever since I came home you’ve been distant. More so than normal.” Will’s eyes flickered over Hannibal and his hand did its best to tighten its hold on Hannibal’s grip, though Hannibal could feel the fragility in the touch. “You don’t touch me the same way. You don’t talk to me the same way. You’re pulling away from me. If you don’t like me anymore or something would you just let me know so I can stop wasting my time with you?” </p><p>Hannibal blinked and sat in silence for a moment, unable to pull from those dead blue eyes. Will thought that Hannibal didn’t care? Of course Will did. Hannibal was pulling away. Hannibal was trying to distance them. But it wasn’t for the same reasons as it had been in the beginning. It wasn’t because Will was uncharted territory and dangerous. Will was still both of those and Hannibal was taking the necessary precautions, but Hannibal was trying to separate them so that when the end came, and it would come, it wouldn’t hurt quite so badly. </p><p>“You asinine little boy,” Hannibal whispered, causing those icy depths to widen in surprise. “Do you truly think I’m shallow enough to base my feelings on you over whether or not you have a few scars over your body?” </p><p>“I-” </p><p>“It was a yes or no question, Will. I did not ask for an explanation.” </p><p>Will’s gaze flickered between Hannibal’s eyes and Hannibal could see that poor fevered boy’s mind turning, trying to find the right answer to the question. He opened and closed his mouth several times before sighing heavily through his nose and rolling his eyes. </p><p>“I don’t know,” he finally replied with a huff. “Are you?”</p><p>Hannibal’s lips tipped up into a smile and he stepped closer to the bed, leaning over to press a kiss to Will’s forehead. Will’s body relaxed under the touch and Hannibal placed another kiss to his right temple. </p><p>“I would sure hope that you know me well enough by now to know better than that, <em>mylimas.”</em></p><p>Will sighed at the word, giving a small nod. “You called me that earlier. What does it mean?” </p><p>“The most direct translation would be beloved, I believe,” Hannibal answered, nuzzling his nose against Will’s cheek. Will turned his head, allowing Hannibal more room to kiss at his cheek. Hannibal kissed the tip of Will’s nose and the man gave a small snort of laughter and his cheeks flushed. Hannibal wanted to believe it was due to the kisses rather than the fever. “Will, you need to come to me if your condition is worsening.” Hannibal moved his kisses down to Will’s jaw, mouthing along it kindly. </p><p>“I don’t want to bother.” Will’s hand tightened over Hannibal’s and there was a sigh from Will’s open mouth. </p><p>“It’s no bother.” </p><p>“I don’t want to be a burden.” </p><p>“You’re no burden,” Hannibal insisted, unable to help but note the way that Will gasped as a kiss was pressed to the back of his jaw below his ear. Hannibal smirked and pressed another kiss to the same place, achieving the same reaction from Will. He would have to hold that in the back of his mind for later. If there was a later... “I expect a call if you experience any more sleepwalking or time lapses. Day or night. Do you understand?” </p><p>“Yes,” Will whimpered, head tipping back to give Hannibal access to his bared throat. Hannibal obliged, lips pressing gentle and calculated kisses down Will’s pulse. “Hannibal?” </p><p>“Hmm?” Hannibal hummed through his kisses, causing Will to shiver with the vibrations of the note. </p><p>“I have an appointment with Sutcliffe on Friday for some more testing. If I’m out of here by then, can you come with me? I don’t want to be alone.” </p><p>Hannibal pulled back and met Will’s begging blue eyes. “I’ll need to check if my schedule is clear. What time is the appointment?” </p><p>“It was going to be the same time in the morning again,” Will explained, pulling Hannibal’s hand to his chest and clutching it tightly there. </p><p>“I should be available.” </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>“You’re welcome, dear boy.” </p><p>Will gave a small smile that quickly fell and his eyes closed tiredly. “I feel really bad for my dogs. I’m hardly there anymore. Maybe I need to sell them or something. I don’t know if I can take care of them until I figure out what’s going on.” </p><p>Hannibal bit his bottom lip and hated the way the idea came to his head almost immediately. It was such a stupid idea. Such a horrid, dangerous idea. It was going to get him in trouble. It was going to drag him down to the depths. Hannibal had never been one to bite off more than he could chew, but this might have been the moment. </p><p>“Move in with me.” </p><p>Will frowned and his nose scrunched up, eyes flickering open hesitantly. “I don’t think-” </p><p>“Just until you’re well,” Hannibal interrupted, heart picking up just slightly in his chest in a way that it only did when Will was near him. “I can set up a room for your dogs and that way I can keep an eye on you and you can be with your dogs.” </p><p>“What about my classes?” </p><p>“Jack and Alana are working out a schedule. She’s going to sub for you while you’re here. Once you’re settled, they were discussing possibly teaching remotely so that you didn’t have to travel so far.” Hannibal could see the distrust in Will’s person. Dislike shining through his eyes. “Once we find out what is wrong with you, you can go back to Wolf Trap. I would not dream of keeping you from that charming house.” </p><p>“Bull shit,” Will blurted out bluntly, eye brows knitting together. “Fucking bull shit.” </p><p>“I don’t appreciate the language, Will,” Hannibal stated strongly, but he couldn’t help but adore the way that Will’s face was slowly falling into a form of submission. “You have every right to deny my offer.”</p><p>“You’re going to let my dogs into your house and let me sleep in one of your guest rooms while I sleepwalk and have time losses? You’re going to take me to my doctor’s appointments and cook for me? You’re going to take care of your patients and then come home and take care of me? That’s what I’m hearing you say.” </p><p>“That is exactly what I am saying Will,” Hannibal assured with a smile and a nod. </p><p>“You’re saying that my dogs will be allowed into your house. All seven of them?” </p><p>“Every. Last. One. Of. Them,” Hannibal whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to Will’s lips. Will gasped at the contact, body going pliant with Hannibal’s touch. A hand snatched up Hannibal’s cheek and pulled him closer, something desperate rolling off of Will. </p><p>“If I would have known you were going to eat each other I wouldn’t have bought so much food,” a voice teased at the door, the scent of grease drenching the room. Hannibal pulled away to pleading eyes. He brushed back Will’s hair and stepped away from the bed, turning to find Beverly setting down a large brown bag and a drink holder with two fountain drinks and then a bottled sports drink. “You like blue Gatorade, right?” Beverly snatched up the drink and took it over to Will, whose smile was wide and grateful. </p><p>“With the twist top?” Will took the bottle from her hand and began pulling at the plastic around the bottle to open it. “You’re a saint.” </p><p>“You’re picky and a child,” Beverly countered with a smile and went back to the table. “Glad you’re awake. Now the both of us get to see what Dr. Hotass looks like trying to eat a Waffle Burger from Iron Rooster.”</p><p>“A waffle burger?” Hannibal questioned, head tipped to the side as Beverly pulled out a container of french fries and ate one. </p><p>“Bev, you’re perfectly perfect and I would marry you if I could,” Will teased, causing Beverly to laugh. </p><p>“You’re lucky I didn’t find somewhere that sells donut burgers.” </p><p>“As soon as I am better, that is the first place we’re going,” Will announced, taking a drink of the unnaturally blue beverage in his hand. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mylimas- Beloved</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Heavy are you, my boy, with demons in your sleeve. You, my little boy, charm with anchors of wide, shipwrecked bloody open seas... You whisper and cry in harmony...” </p><p>― The Battle of Land and Sea</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                           </p>
<hr/><p>Will hadn’t been lying. Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure why he was so surprised by the fact that Will hadn’t been lying, but it sat odd in his chest. </p><p>Ethan Pats’ body was found just as Will had said it was. A year ago in an abandoned little shack out in the middle of a forest in nowhere. The pictures were interesting to say the least. Will had been right. They must have used dental work to identify the body because after all these years the body was absolutely stripped clean and the boy’s skull was smashed to pieces. </p><p>Whoever had been in charge of putting the pieces back together had done their best but there were pieces missing. So many pieces either having been turned to dust or possibly taken off by animals. Possibly taken by Michael Woodmansee and shellacked . As far as Hannibal knew, Will did not keep trophies or souvenirs from his victims. And Will had also been right on the count of the boy having no living relatives left to compare DNA on. His parents were both the last line of their families and had been cremated. The rest of the family lived in Ireland and had been estranged. </p><p>As for Michael Woodmansee, it was just as Will had said. Michael killed by strangulation. He had a meticulous account of each and every death he committed kept in the journal just as Will stated. Each and every kill save for Ethan Pats. There was no mention anywhere of Ethan Pats in any of Michael’s writings. No observations or obsessions or planning or doing or reliving. None of that was anywhere for Ethan Pats. Not to mention that later in court that Michael said that his confession was a lie because the cops had threatened him into confessing to Ethan’s murder as well. </p><p>Will had been right. The timing of the kills didn’t add up, if both happened on the same day. There was no way that one person could be on the outskirts of town and then in the forest on the opposite side of the town in a cabin several miles deep in the trees. It would be physically impossible. </p><p>Hannibal could only accept that Will had been telling the truth. </p><p>The next death that Hannibal had looked into was Will’s father. It had taken some time to get the name from Beverly. For not being able to afford letters to give Will’s name its full length, Will’s grandparents must not have had any issues. Jeremiah Graham. If Hannibal hadn't known that they lived in Virginia when Will’s father had died, Hannibal wasn’t sure he would have been able to find the man. And the only image of the deceased was a graining photo in a local newspaper that spoke about the man’s passing. </p><p>The picture had caught Hannibal’s attention. Will was in it as well. They were on a rusted old fishing boat, Jeremiah with an arm slung around a rather small boy who looked close to starving. The only thing that told Hannibal it was Will was the mass of curly locks on his head that were even longer then than they were now. A mess in the wind off the bay, a fish in the boy’s grip. Something nearly as large as him and Hannibal was surprised that the starving child was able to hold it up. But Will was always stronger than Hannibal thought he could be. </p><p>Will’s father had died, once more, as Will had said. Slipped and fell down some apartment stairs, cervical fracture was the cause of death. It could have looked like an accident but with how strongly Will had pressed, Hannibal believed the boy. Jeremiah hadn’t slipped. He had been pushed, shoved down with a viciousness and Hannibal wondered what it was that the man had said that had finally caused Will to snap. </p><p>There was no autopsy done and the man was cremated. No one would ever know what truly happened. Only Will, Hannibal and Beverly, though she had even admitted that she didn’t believe Will’s story. </p><p>The only other four instances that Hannibal knew about from Will had been the four that had gotten Hannibal’s anger and attention. Four displays and five bodies that had started them down this little path. Into this tangled mess. </p><p>The markings of the Butcher were easy enough to see through those four kills and if they really had all been done by Will, then Hannibal couldn’t deny that the man had an attention for detail and enjoyed correcting any wrong doings in the most diverting sense possible. </p><p>A barista drowned in her own coffee. A handyman whose hands, his means for working, were stripped bare for the world to see. A socialite who interrupted a performance was interrupted in hers and turned into something worth watching. A driver from a hit and run, keeping her mouth shut and nurse convincing others to commit suicide plucked from the world and shown the fate she had driven others to. </p><p>Hannibal hadn’t heard anything more on the woman and the skull inside of her from either the news, Jack or Will, but both had done something to drive Will to them. Even if Will had been furious at Hannibal and tried to make a statement, he wouldn’t just pick up someone off the side of the road and use them. Will had meanings behind everything he did, whether he realized it or not. </p><p>That had started Hannibal on his little search. A search that had meant to stay little. Hannibal had only been meaning to check the facts of Will’s statements and see where the man landed, but it had taken on another turn entirely. It had drug Hannibal down the rabbit's hole and he wasn’t sure how he was meant to emerge again with his tail still white and fluffy. </p><p>
  <em>I followed my father from boatyards of Biloxi and Greenville to, uh, lake boats on Erie. </em>
</p><p>The most that Hannibal knew about Will’s upbringing was how often the boy had moved. Mississippi, Michigan, Virginia, and of course, Louisiana. Other than those four states, though Hannibal was certain there were more, Hannibal knew nothing more about Will’s moving. </p><p>Hannibal started in Louisiana, in that small little town of Farmerville where Ethan Pats had been killed. The most interesting thing from there had been Michael’s case and those several missing boys. Other than that, there wasn’t much on the town, nothing more for Hannibal to find. Biloxi had brought with it something else completely. Biloxi had been the tipping point. </p><p>Biloxi, like most of the other places that Hannibal assumed Will had lived, was a small town. And like all small towns, there were many secrets that no one would ever know, but one secret that was not kept was about a seventeen year old boy named Joseph Clark. Clark had been dubbed the Bonebreaker Killer. The only living victim of Joseph Clark was a thirteen year old boy named Thadius Phillips. </p><p>Thadius had just moved into his new home and as a result had fallen asleep on the couch the first night because they hadn’t finished setting up the bedrooms. Clark had broken into the house and kidnapped Thadius. </p><p>Once Thadius was in Clark’s house, Thadius stated that Clark shoved him onto a bed and grabbed his ankle, twisting it until his leg broke. Thad then attempted to reason with Clark to get away, asking why he would do this. Clark said he enjoyed the sound and feeling of bones breaking at his whim. </p><p>Hannibal paused in his reading, something like a chill rushing through him at the feeling of agreement with the words. Bones cracking had become something akin to a lullaby for Hannibal after he had tracked down those men. The splintering sound of calcium phosphate and screams seeped through his memories almost as often as blood soaked them. Hannibal was certain he could pick out the sound and feeling against any other sensation in the entire world it was that ingrained in his body. </p><p>Thadius had explained how one morning Clark’s car wouldn’t start and he had come back into the house and used a hammer to shatter Thadius’ kneecaps as well as continuing to twist the already broken leg at the ankle. He was beaten as well. Suffered from internal bleeding after days of abuse. </p><p>On the last day Thadius had been left unconscious in the closet when Clark left for work. When Clark returned that evening, Thadius mentioned that he had heard another person being led into the bedroom with the same ruse about seeing a model car. </p><p>Thadius had opened the bedroom closet door and had peered out, watching a young boy with curly hair be shoved down onto the bed just as he had been, but this time when Clark grabbed the boy’s ankle to twist, Clark had been kicked in the face. </p><p>Thadius said that he didn’t dare leave the closet as he watched this small boy do to Clark exactly what he had done to Thadius, almost as if the curly haired boy had read a textbook on Clark’s behavior. </p><p>Clark’s legs were broken. Both ankles twisted until snapping sounds filled the room with Clark’s cries. And then the hammer broke both of Clark’s knees before coming down over Clark’s head over and over again until Clark had stopped moving. And then Thadius stated that the boy took long white socks and tied them around Clark’s legs like makeshift wraps and then took the leg braces that Clark would sometimes force Thadius’ legs into and strapped them around Clark’s mangled legs. </p><p>Thadius said that when the boy turned to the closet it was if the boy had known he had been there the entire time. Thadius was helped from the closet and down the stairs to the living room where he was passed a phone and told to call the police and to never mention the boy. </p><p>The boy had stayed until the police had arrived and snuck out of one of the windows and raced into the forest around the house. Thadius had never seen or heard from that boy ever again. In half consciousness, he wasn’t even sure if he had really seen a boy, but he was sure that he hadn’t killed Clark. As was Hannibal. </p><p>Thanks to Thadius, the local authorities had been able to close several other missing boy’s cases due to similar injuries. Though, all of the thanks belonged to Will. Hannibal’s beautiful, curly haired boy, whose hands were stained red. </p><p>It continued on like that. The next one that Hannibal had been certain of was a crime in Michigan where a curly haired boy saved a Salehe Aguda from Veronica Deramous who had tried to cut Salehe’s baby from her body after drugging the woman who had simply come to pick up some baby clothes. </p><p>The boy had, according to Salehe, been called a friend by Veronica Deramous, and had been instructed to hold Salehe down while Deramous attempted to cut out the baby. Instead, the curly haired boy had drugged Deramous and, once more, Salehe stated that through her drugged state that she couldn’t be sure that the boy was really there, but that she didn’t kill Deramous. The knife had been turned to Deramous instead and her uterus had been cut from her body before she was stabbed in the chest several times. </p><p>Salehe had been told to call for help and the boy had stayed until help arrived and then miraculously snuck out the back without being seen. The baby had survived after all of that. Happy and healthy. And the truth about Deramous had come out. She had been stealing pregnant women’s babies and selling them to families who wanted to adopt but couldn’t through legal means. Salehe hadn’t been the first woman taken or killed and her baby stolen. </p><p>The woman in the snow made a bit more sense to Hannibal now. Her uterus had been taken from her as well. No wonder Will was under the assumption that he had something to do with it. A part of him was in that kill and it left Hannibal wondering if maybe Will’s kills clung to him far more than any of Hannibal’s did. If they snatched onto Will’s bones and grounded themselves there with spikes and thorns. </p><p>Those two had been the only ones that he had found that he was certain were Will, though he had gone down the rabbit hole. He traced the coast, up and down it for what had to have been hours, if not days, finding small towns everywhere with similar stories. Stories of killers coming to untimely ends with their deaths mirroring their own patterns as if an instructional booklet had been written. Stories survivors gave of a thin, sickly boy with curly hair, that might or might not have existed, saving them from their would be killers. </p><p>No one had connected the kills. What small town was going to believe drugged, unconscious, delirious survivors about a curly haired teen boy saving them? And after that, when there was no record of said boy ever existing, no local police department was going to contact other small towns all over the east coast to see if they had similar cases. Who would attempt to see if there was a pattern? </p><p>Hannibal doubted that even if anyone other than him found the pattern, nothing would come from it because soon those kills stopped too. Hannibal hit a dead end in his research. No more curly haired angels to save anyone and Hannibal had to guess that this was when Will had either been shoved into foster care or hit his drug habits. Will had fallen out of public eye until he had been snatched from the gutter and made to sober up. Until he had gone through the police academy and worked homicide. </p><p>Hannibal had picked up Will’s trail then. There were no more kills around Will, though he was highly regarded in his field. He was often used for interrogations over everything else. Will seemed to have a way of making people crack. His coworkers and those over him said that Will never yelled. He didn’t have to get nasty or mean when talking to a suspect. Will just had a gift for being able to read a person. Tell everything about them. Every last little detail and dirty little secret and it unnerved people enough to come clean. </p><p>It was going well until Will was stabbed and then after some news reports about medical complications, it told about Will’s retirement. It took another year before Will’s records showed up at the FBI academy. Hannibal couldn’t be quite sure what happened in that year. There were no mentions of a curly haired savor anywhere in that time period along the coast. But that didn’t mean Will hadn’t been on the coast or that Will had even been killing with any noticeable pattern. </p><p>Will had mentioned that these weren’t his first kills. They absolutely weren’t if Hannibal’s new found data held any weight to it. If Hannibal’s numbers were correct, Will had a list that stacked up against Hannibal’s own, though Will was still a few bodies short, if these were the only ones that Will had committed. Hannibal doubted it. There had to have been more, though the amount of time and care it would have taken to commit these crimes would have been meticulous. </p><p>Had Will turned his skill towards the law to help them instead of taking out his own righteous judgement? Is that why Hannibal hadn’t been able to locate any further kills from Will? Had Will changed his signatures and MO, his calling card and everything else about him so that he couldn’t be found or had he stopped killing all together? Or had Will stumbled upon this case and had made the connection himself and was just trying to pass it off as his own?</p><p>Hannibal had stopped looking after that point. He couldn’t bear the idea that he fell into the boy’s patterns. That he fit exactly who Will would come after. It was a dangerous game that Will played. Getting into the killer’s path purposefully. Possibly sinking himself into their lives until he was trusted. Using the killer against themselves. Will was just such a perfectly crafter killer. Patient, ready to play the long game to get what he wanted and that only put Hannibal further on edge. </p><p>“Thank you for taking care of my dogs. You really didn’t have to. I could have called-” </p><p>“It’s not a problem, dear boy,” Hannibal assured, pulling himself from the gloomy snowstorm out of the hospital window. He turned back to the hospital bed where a tired looking Will lied, arms bruised from all of the blood work that had been done on him to help analyze more of his issues, Will having insisted that it wasn’t just the infection that had made him start to get sick. “Alana and I have been happy to assist you.” </p><p>“Are you sure you still-” </p><p>“This Friday,” Hannibal assured, adding a smile to his lips for authenticity. “As soon as your appointment with Donald has finished, we’ll go pick up your dogs and make sure you’re comfortable at my house. I’ve cleared my schedule.”</p><p>“You really didn’t-” </p><p>“I didn’t have to do anything,” Hannibal agreed, once more cutting Will off and stepping closer to the bed where Will gave a huff and rolled his eyes at not being able to get a full sentence out. “But I want to do something. That’s all there is to it. You don’t have to feel guilty about it.” </p><p>“Thank you anyways,” Will muttered, shaking his head. His eyes flickered around the room from behind his glasses that Hannibal had decided he preferred Will without. Less of a barrier between them. “I’m just happy to finally be getting discharged tomorrow. I hate it here.” </p><p>“You don’t seem to be shaking yourself apart with your nosocomephobia.” </p><p>Will gave a light smile. “It’s easier when you’re here. Or Bev. It makes it manageable. I swear the nurse nearly stabbed me with the IV drip.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a small chuckle and shook his head lightly. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Speaking of Beverly, she should be arriving here soon. Said she had a surprise for you as well.” </p><p>“I swear, if she brings Dirty Dancing or Flashdance or something like either of those, I might need to have my license to carry revoked.” Will rolled his eyes once more and leaned back against his pillow. </p><p>“I believe she mentioned something about Bareback Mountain?” Hannibal teased nonchalantly. </p><p>Will snorted at the joke and Hannibal couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips at how lovely it was to hear Will’s bright laugh, even if the man still looked on death's door with his fever. </p><p>“Dear God, I hope they didn’t make a porn spin off of Brokeback Mountain called that. But with rule thirty four and all that, it wouldn’t necessarily surprise me.” Will’s head tipped back and his smile was brilliant. He only laughed more at Hannibal’s question. </p><p>“Rule thirty four?”</p><p>“If you don’t know what that is, I am absolutely not going to explain it to you.” Will let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind watching that one with you.” </p><p>“I’ve only ever heard rumors that it’s heartbreaking.” Hannibal sat on the edge of the hospital bed and Will opened a single eye, reaching out to take Hannibal’s hand in his before once more relaxing back, both eyes closed. He gave a small hum and a nod in answer. </p><p>“It’s...” Will trailed off, hand tightening on Hannibal’s. Hannibal waited for a moment for the rest of the sentence, but it didn’t come. Instead, Hannibal was offered a different train of thought to chew on. “Have you ever wanted to run away Hannibal?” Will’s blue eyes opened and he pulled his glasses from his nose, letting them sit in his lap. “Have you ever wanted to just escape? Just disappear for a few days and go somewhere where you don’t have to hide who you are? Just be free, even if it’s only for a moment? Enough to-to finally get the air back in your lungs and breathe for once in your life because your whole life has been nothing but a trap?” </p><p>The heart monitor jumped and Hannibal glanced carefully over Will, whose words had only sped up and gotten louder with each passing syllable. Hannibal licked at his lips and took in the way that desperation clung to blue and how Will’s chest rose and fell in time with the rapid beats of his heart. </p><p>Hannibal slowly shook his head, trying to take in the full meaning behind those words. The want in them. The plea that maybe there was something more out there than just hospital rooms and corpses and fevers and blood. </p><p>“I’m not sure I fully grasp the sentiment,” Hannibal admitted softly, watching those diamond blue eyes shatter into a thousand pieces. A breath caught in Will’s chest and he held it for a moment before he let it go, turning his head away from Hannibal. “I suppose I might have experienced it once in my childhood, but there are a lot of moments during those winter nights that I have locked away in my mind and there is nothing and no one who will ever be able to unchain those doors.”</p><p>Will didn’t acknowledge the words and Hannibal glanced towards the open hospital door for a moment before he lifted a hand out to Will and gently took the man’s chin. He turned Will’s face towards him and was met with eyes on the verge of tears, though there was nothing in the depths to say that Will was going to start crying. He wouldn’t cry in front of Hannibal. Not this time. </p><p>His hand slipped across Will’s cheek and came to rest at the back of Will’s neck, his fingers tangled in those unruly curls that littered news articles and had traveled up and down the eastern coast, never staying in one place long enough to do more than enough damage. </p><p>Hannibal’s pull was soft, and Will followed the movement until Hannibal had him close enough to kiss. The action was tender, lips brushing softly. The gentleness never seemed to stop the small gasps that always came from Will whenever they kissed and Hannibal wondered if Will knew that he made those sounds. </p><p>Fingers caressed over Hannibal’s cheeks before twisting themselves deeply into Hannibal’s hair, to pull Hannibal closer. It only deepened the kiss between them. Nothing starving, nothing hungry, just content to be there. </p><p>“Hannibal, promise me something,” Will whispered, nose nuzzling against Hannibal’s while his fingers brushed through Hannibal’s hair, effectively running the style it had been put into. “Please promise me that once I’m better, once we figure out whatever this is, that we can escape for a while. Just us.” </p><p>“And go where, dear boy?” Hannibal asked back softly, letting Will hold him as close as Will wanted. </p><p>“Somewhere away from people. Away from cities and responsibilities. Somewhere out west.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a light smile. “And what could possibly be out west, Will?” </p><p>“I’ve only been out there once for a wedding when I was young. My dad and I drove from Louisiana out to California. My dad took us up through Oklahoma, Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah. Most of it was sagebrush hell but when you hit those mountain ranges there is nothing more breathtaking on this planet. The Okanagan, Tetons, Pikes Peak, the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada’s are God’s gift to man.” </p><p>Hannibal chuckled lightly and shook his head that was still resting against Will’s as Will’s hands fluttered over his face and hair as if trying to memorize him. “I didn’t see you as the religious type,” Hannibal whispered. </p><p>“I grew up going to a Baptist Church. The Catholics of the south. Too much fire and brimstone for my taste,” Will explained before pressing another kiss softly to Hannibal’s mouth. “They would skin me just for thinking about another man.” Will gave a light laugh. “That doesn’t change the fact that Godly is the only way to explain how you feel when you stand on top of one of those mountains, the only soul for absolute miles. Your lungs can fully expand and there is nothing there that could possibly hurt you. You’re free.” </p><p>“And that’s what you want, Will?” </p><p>“That’s what I want,” Will agreed with a small nod, thumb stroking over Hannibal’s cheekbone. “A moment to breathe. A moment to just exist in a bubble of nothingness.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes as Will kissed him again. Touch almost hesitant as if Will knew he was asking for far too much. Knew that he would never have the chance even if the promise did come his way. </p><p>It hadn’t struck Hannibal before, but Will’s skin was absolutely soaked through with anxiety and fear, the smell bitter on his person. The sense of knowing that the end was possibly coming for him. Hannibal wasn’t sure how Will had come to the conclusion, but it clung to the boy like a second skin. He was pleading for something he doubted would ever happen and it made Hannibal’s insides twist into knots in a way they hadn’t in many years. </p><p>The answer came from him naturally, the truth in every letter. “The moment you are well again, I will take you to the very tip of Everest if that will help bring back the air into your lungs.” </p><p>Will’s smile was brilliant and he laughed, pulling away slightly from Hannibal, blue eyes searching Hannibal’s curiously. “I don’t think Everest is exactly the right place to get the air back into your lungs.” </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal chided lightly. “Any place in the entirety of the world you would like to go I will take you. If that happens to be somewhere in California or somewhere in the very heart of Africa, it will be yours.” </p><p>Will’s brows furrowed and his nose scrunched up, though his smile didn’t falter. “You’re insane. I wasn’t being serious.” </p><p>“I do not take promises lightly, Will.” Hannibal inhaled deeply, allowing himself to let slip a bit more information. “Not after I failed to keep the promise I made to my sister before she died.” Will’s head tipped to the side at the words, clearly interested in the story behind them, but Will didn’t push for an answer and Hannibal was grateful. “The very moment you’re better, I promise.” </p><p>“I can’t wait to see you in a three piece suit on top of a mountain with me.” </p><p>“I’m sure I can manage.” </p><p>Will shook his head. “I don’t think you understand what mountains mean to someone who comes from trailer park white trash.” </p><p>Hannibal allowed a genuine smile to come to his mouth. “I do hope you will explain that to me.” Hannibal’s eyes went to the door as a familiar person stepped through it. Beverly’s long hair was pulled up, telling Hannibal that she had immediately left the lab, that being the only time that he had noticed her hair ever being pulled from her face. “Another time, perhaps,” Hannibal finished softly, patting Will’s hand. Hannibal got to his feet, straightening up his suit as he stepped around the bed to greet the woman. “Afternoon, Beverly.” </p><p>“Hey, Dr. Hotass,” she said with her dazzling, crooked smile, shot over her shoulder as she let several bags drop from her shoulders and onto the small side table. “You don’t want to stay for the movie?” </p><p>“I believe this is one adventure I will need to sit out on,” Hannibal answered kindly, picking up his winter coat from the back of the chair and slowly pulling it on. “Thank you for the invite, though.” He shot Will a light smile and made his way towards the door, stopping at his name. </p><p>“Hannibal?” Will called and Hannibal found himself slowly turning back to the room. Will's hand was outstretched towards Hannibal and Hannibal pushed himself back towards the hospital bed. “Stay?” </p><p>Hannibal shook his head lightly. “I’m afraid I have dinner arrangements with Doctor Bloom tonight that I absolutely cannot miss.” Hannibal leaned over and pressed a kiss to Will’s still warm forehead. “I will be here tomorrow after checking on your dogs in the morning. I’ll be here for your discharge and take you home, alright?” </p><p>“Alright,” Will muttered with a nod, looking down at the glasses that were in his lap that one hand was playing with. “Tomorrow.” </p><p>“Be kind to Beverly. I’m sure she has a wonderful night planned for you.”</p><p>Will’s eyes flickered up in distrust and went behind Hannibal and to Beverly for a moment before returning to Hannibal. “Do I want to know?” he questioned. </p><p>“Nope!” Beverly replied happily from behind Hannibal. </p><p>Will sighed and rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Hannibal.” </p><p>“Goodnight Will.” Hannibal tried to straighten up, but a hand quickly snatched up his tie and held him in place. Blue glanced between his and Hannibal leaned in closer to kiss Will once more. There was another small, adorable little gasp from the man beneath Hannibal and Hannibal wondered if he would come to miss that sound when he wouldn’t be able to hear it any longer. Hannibal pulled back, only to receive a small whine and a tug on his tie to return to Will. Hannibal simply reached up and loosened Will’s fingers from around the fabric. “If you need anything, call me.” </p><p>Hannibal straightened upright and turned away from the bed, gaining a small smile from Beverly before he went for the door, only to hear his name called once more from the empath trapped in a hospital bed. He glanced over his shoulder and to the man who needed a shave and whose hair was an absolute tangle of curls. </p><p>“I want to see Skyline Drive in Utah and Bear River Reservoir in California,” Will explained quickly, causing Beverly to give a curious glance between the two of them. “I want to take an ATV through the mud and the aspens and the sheep pins and then I want to catch rainbow trout in a canoe and swim out to the stupid little islands in the middle of the lake and lay out in the sun under the pine trees to dry.”</p><p>Hannibal didn’t dare look over at Beverly who looked about as confused as a person could be, interrupting a private conversation that Will had turned into something public between the three of them. But Hannibal couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened up and his heart pounded a bit heavier at those lovely eyes on him. </p><p>“Anything you ask, silly boy,” Hannibal assured in a soft whisper before leaving the room before those eyes could force him to stay. </p>
<hr/><p>“It’s not often that I am invited over for dinner,” Hannibal commented with a small smile as Alana beckoned him into her rather modest little home. It wasn’t anything too impressive if Hannibal were being honest. A little one bedroom home that looked more like a cottage than anything else, nestled within the small town of Quantico near the academy. </p><p>Alana gave a light laugh, closing the door behind Hannibal and taking the bottle of beer he had brought for her with a kind<em> thank yo</em>u. “Has it ever occurred to you that others might be afraid of you judging their cooking and therefore they do not invite you to dinner?” </p><p>“Is that so?” Hannibal mused, receiving a smile from Alana over her shoulder as she guided him into the small open concept kitchen, dining room and living room that was decently accented with light colored furniture and pastel walls, something that reminded him of what maybe a padded cell might look like if homely touches were allowed. “I take it that you have no such trepidation?” </p><p>“Not in the slightest. I trust you to be as honest as you always have.” Alana set the beer on the counter and made her way over to some cabinets to fetch two glasses, allowing time for Hannibal to take in the scent of chicken marinated in soy sauce, horseradish, garlic and some sort of citrus cooking in the oven. “Which brings me to the reasoning of tonight’s meetup.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply with a nod, pulling his coat from his shoulders and draping it over his forearm. “Jumping into the deep end, aren’t we Alana?” </p><p>Alana stepped around the counter, holding out a glass of the beer and Hannibal took it with a kind smile. “Sink or swim,” Alana replied with a nod, taking a sip of her drink. “I’m assuming this has to do with Will and his psych eval.” </p><p>Hannibal chuckled with a nod, setting his undrunk beer aside on the counter. “Correct as ever, Alana.” Hannibal let his coat drape over the back of a chair. </p><p>“I’m not just going to pass him,” she stated sternly, a darkness about her blue eyes. “He needs to go through extensive therapeutic regimen before I will even begin to-” </p><p>“Actually,” Hannibal quickly cut in. “I was hoping to speak to you about something else in regards to his evaluation.” Alana’s perfectly kept eyebrows rose as she took another drink of her beer and waited for Hannibal to continue. “I’m here to ask you to not allow him back into the field.” </p><p>Alana’s eyes widened slightly and her head tipped to the side. “Beverly Katz asked me to do the same thing,” she muttered. The sound of a timer buzzed loudly in the small space and Alana set her drink aside to tend to the oven where the chicken had finished cooking. Hannibal watched as she opened the oven door and reached for some hot pads. “Is there something about his therapy with you that has you concerned?” </p><p>“The last time we met for dinner you had me make you a promise,” Hannibal explained. “I am simply trying to uphold that promise and that is as much as I can say about the matter. Will is not stable enough and I would ask that he is removed from the field. I’m also going to be speaking to Jack about having Will’s firearm confiscated.” </p><p>“You think he’s going to hurt someone?” Alana set the tray of chicken on the stovetop, closed the oven and turned around to look over Hannibal carefully with her steely blue eyes. </p><p>“I am far more worried about Will hurting himself than I am of him hurting another person,” Hannibal answered, stepping around the counter. “Would you like any help plating?” </p><p>“I’ve got it,” Alana assured with a smile. “I’ve been worried about him too. His fever was of some concern, but if it really was a result of his injuries being infected, then I don’t feel quite so conflicted.” </p><p>“Alana, I am asking you as a friend, not as a colleague and not as a doctor, but as a friend of both you and Will, please do not allow him back into the field. He is not stable enough for that job. His safest place to be is back behind a teaching podium.” </p><p>Alana gave a sigh and a nod. “He’s going to start to resent me for it.” </p><p>“His safety is far more important than his resentment of you, Alana.” </p>
<hr/><p>As much as Hannibal hated to admit it, his time spent in Will’s charming farmhouse was starting to grow on him. He hadn’t thought much of the place with its horrid green paint, small excuse for a kitchen and its range of mangy mutts, but now he found himself wearing a slight smile each time he pulled up to the house. </p><p>The mismatched dogs had also started to grow on him. Winston was still ever weary and Hannibal put it to a good judge of character, but Buster had become quite fond of Hannibal, barely leaving Hannibal’s side. </p><p>Hannibal opened the front door, the dogs barking and racing out into the freshly fallen powdery snow. Hannibal stepped into the house and made his way to the thermostat to make sure that the house stayed a bit warmer for the animals, especially after the temperature had dropped the other night. </p><p>He found himself in the kitchen as he normally did, finding the homemade food that Will kept around for the dogs. Hannibal had had to make up another batch of it the other day, but that hadn’t been an issue. If it was one thing that Will kept in his house, it was food for his animals. </p><p>Hannibal filled all of their dishes and got new water for them, only stopping at a snarling sound from the front room. Hannibal had learned early on that sometimes Max and Harley liked to get into altercations and needed to be broken up before they also attacked the upholstery. </p><p>Hannibal stepped into the front room to find the two dogs trying to dig their way into a box that looked like it had been partly unpacked and then just left there for a later date. Hannibal made his way over to it and pushed the two dogs back to find one of their obnoxiously yellow tennis balls trapped inside of it. </p><p>He pulled the ball out and tossed it towards the open front door, watching as the two dogs raced after it and out into the snow. Hannibal turned back to the box and looked over it with a small sigh. The dogs had torn it nearly to shreds to get to the ball, all of the paperwork inside having spilt out and onto the floor, some of it covered in wet paw prints and others brown with dirt. </p><p>Hannibal knelt down, scooped up the papers into his hands as well as the ruined box and carried them into the kitchen, letting them fall onto the kitchen table. He stepped back, once more examining the box closely and, finding that it could be recovered, went to dig through Will’s drawers until he found Will’s junk drawer and a roll of packing tape. </p><p>The packing tape found its way to the table, but no further when Hannibal’s phone rang. He fished it from his pocket and looked over it to find Will’s name on the screen. “Hello Will,” he greeted happily across the line. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep well last night,” Will answered. “As soon as Bev left the panic set in and I was worried I would start sleepwalking again.” </p><p>“Have you been?” Hannibal asked with his brows furrowed. </p><p>“No,” Will replied softly. “Not since being brought here. I don’t know. Sometimes I can tell if it’s going to happen or not, like something uncomfortable in my bones. I can’t explain it. I got that feeling last night.” </p><p>“I see.” Hannibal leaned up against the counter, eyes looking over all of the paperwork and the ruined box. “Is there something I can do for you, Will? Or did you just want to chat?” </p><p>“I’m not being discharged today. They want to keep me for another night. Said they wanted to run some more testing tonight.” </p><p>Hannibal was about to answer, but stopped when his eyes landed on the corner of a small card that looked so horribly familiar that Hannibal thought it belonged to him. A small index card with his own handwriting on it. A recipe from his own kitchen. But that couldn’t be right, could it? </p><p>“Hannibal?” </p><p>Hannibal stepped closer to the table, reaching out to pull the card free from the rest of the paperwork, his fingers suddenly so very numb. He stared down at his own hand writing on an index card that indeed had a recipe written down on it. Chicken Liver Pate. There was tape to the top of it that held some of a ripped paper to it. </p><p>“Hey, Hannibal?” </p><p>Hannibal swiftly dug through the pile of papers until he located where the card had come from. What he pulled free was a manila envelope that had a piece of it ripped from the corner where the recipe card had been taped to the inside. </p><p>“You there?” </p><p>Hannibal opened the file and could only stare and his mouth went dry at a business card for a Michelle Vocalson from Stanwood Tailored Coats stared back at him taped a little lower on the inside of the file. The recipe had clearly been taped above the business card. The rest of the file contained images of the crime scene. Michelle’s body displayed and the police reports. </p><p>“Hannibal!” </p><p>Hannibal blinked, the world slamming into him with Will’s voice across the phone at his ear, a heavy weight in his hands and small bodies brushing up against his legs. Hannibal inhaled deeply and closed the file immediately. He cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hannibal muttered. “Harley and Max ripped apart one of your boxes. I was trying to get them back outside. What were you saying Will?” </p><p>“Oh,” Will muttered. “I’m sorry. I hope they didn’t make too big of a mess.” </p><p>“It’s quite alright,” Hannibal assured, though his mouth felt like the desert and he was sure the words were sticking to his teeth. “I can take care of it. So you’re being discharged tomorrow?” </p><p>“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to stay, but Bev insisted and-” </p><p>“That’s quite alright,” Hannibal repeated, eyes flickering over the rest of the contents of the box to only find similar folders. “Do what’s medically best for you. I will just rearrange my schedule. It’s nothing to worry about.” </p><p>“You really don’t have to-” Will groaned. “Hannibal, that’s too much. I can have Zeller or Price or someone else come get me. Hell, I could even get an uber. I really-” </p><p>“Will Benjamin Graham,” Hannibal scolded in as light a voice as he could. “I will not tell you again that you are not a problem or a burden to me. I will take care of everything.” </p><p>“How did you know my-“</p><p>“Beverly.”</p><p>There was a tight sigh before a, “Thank you, Hannibal.” </p><p>“You’re very welcome, dear boy. Rest and I will see you tomorrow.” </p><p>Before Will had a chance to answer, Hannibal had ended the call, the phone going to the table top while his hands reached out to another file. It held the same items. This time Braised Beef Lung card was taped to the file along with David Ledgerwood’s business card for Hidden Room Rare Books. Parmesan Encrusted Lambs Brain and Christopher Ward’s IT Consulting business. Crisp Lemon Calf Liver and Andrew Cardwell’s Medical Practice card. The man who had gotten Hannibal caught by Will in a bus yard. </p><p>Hannibal wasn’t sure he had ever felt sick to his stomach before in his life save for once and it wasn’t a feeling he wanted to relive in the slightest. He hated the way his hands went cold and sweaty and the way that his knees felt weak and he wanted nothing more than to fall forward and empty out that morning’s breakfast from his body. </p><p>With a deep inhale and a tight grip on the table, Hannibal pulled his phone back to him, scrolling through the contacts until he found the number that he had been searching for. He pushed on it and put the phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone sound several times before the line finally connected. </p><p>“Hello, Doctor Lecter,” Sutcliffe’s voice greeted. “What can I do for you?” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes with another deep breath and bit his bottom lip, some part of him desperately wanting to hold the words back in case this was a misunderstanding, but how could it be? </p><p>Will had been in his home, had been in his kitchen, had gone through his things. Will had found his rolodex and his recipes and had begun to put two and two together. Granted, Hannibal never kept the business cards when he was finished with them. He made sure to burn them to remove any evidence of the sort, but Will must have gone out of his way to gain copies of their business cards in an effort to match all of Hannibal’s kills to all of the meals that Hannibal had made from them. </p><p>Hannibal opened up one of the files again and flipped through crime scene photos until he came across a statement made by one of his common dinner guests. A doctor, Fredrick Chilton. A list of the dishes that Hannibal had served at one of his dinner parties. A list written down in Will’s hand across what looked like a napkin with a coffee stain on it. Among the list of dishes were written victim’s names with their missing organs as well. </p><p>Hannibal’s mind wasn’t entirely made up until he opened one more file and stared down at his butterfly display. The one that he had used to answer Will and it felt so long ago now. A winter or two away, though it had only been a month or so. In Will’s handwriting was the recipe for Sanguinaccio Dolce as well as the business card for Caleb Francesco’s Mechanic Shop. </p><p>“Cancel Will’s appointment this Friday,” Hannibal instructed. “I will handle any cancellation fees for the short notice.” </p><p>There was a curious silence over the line and Hannibal waited, eyes searching over crude and hastily taken pictures of the desert they had shared that night among many other small secrets told in whispers between kisses. How hard he had fallen for Will. Right where Will wanted him. Right where Will needed him. Right into Will’s clever little pattern of getting into the killer’s lives and spaces enough to gain trust or become the next victim. </p><p>There was a deep sigh over the line and Hannibal frowned. “I’m not going to do that, Hannibal. I’ve been contacted by the hospital that Graham is currently emitted at and they informed me of several issues concerning Graham. It is my job to help him. Plain and simple.” </p><p>Hannibal’s teeth bared and he tried not to let out a low growl. Tried not to shove the files from the table top and to the floor. Tried to keep himself in check the best that he could despite the way that his emotions were gnawing at him. </p><p>“Are you-” </p><p>“I’m going to tell him, Hannibal. He needs to know. I can’t keep this up. It’s not fair to him and I would never be able to live with myself if I killed an innocent man.” </p><p>Hannibal nearly snorted at the term that Sutcliffe had coined Will with. Will was anything but innocent. This ruined box of papers was enough of an answer. Enough of a statement. Enough of a doorway into Will’s mind. It told Hannibal everything that he needed to know and that was that Will absolutely, undoubtedly had to disappear. He had to be ripped from Hannibal’s life, carved away and cut out and it would hurt. It would always hurt, but Hannibal came first. He would survive this just like he survived that winter. Will was just another one of those soldiers that attacked his family. Will had to be put down and Hannibal had the means to accomplish the task without raising any red flags and he was going to take it and sprint with it. </p><p>“I completely understand, Donald,” Hannibal said with a nod. “Are you in your office tonight? I would actually enjoy the chance to better catch up if you’d have me. I can bring wine.” </p><p>“I might have some time tonight. Let me check my schedule towards the end of the day. I have a flakey patient that likes to cancel at the last minute,” Donald offered politely, though Hannibal could hear the dislike in the man’s voice. But it didn’t truly matter. Not anymore. </p><p>“I will await your call.” </p><p>“Goodbye, Hannibal.” </p><p>Hannibal lowered the phone back to the table, his skin feeling as if it didn’t fit him quite right. Too tight in some places and far too loose in others. His hands weren’t his own even if they did exactly what was asked of them. The files would be put back into the taped up box and then Hannibal had to return to his office for appointments before he dropped by the Noble Hills Care Center, invited or not. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I made that Brokeback Mountain reference in here and I realized I had never seen it and watched it and now I'm not sure what to do with my life. I haven't been able to stop listening to the soundtrack since I watched movie and read the short story. My soul is aching a little bit. Haha.</p><p>Once more, insane real cases. I did change some details and some names here and there, but the base is the same for all of them. And I didn't want to take too much away from these real survivors. Their stories are absolutely insane and amazing. You can hear about Thadius in Small Town Murder episode 32 and the baby snatcher one from episode 72 of I survived or episode 117 of My Favorite Murder. I believe those are all the right episodes, don't hate me if I'm wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks again to my sister and my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“For every man there exists a bait which he cannot resist swallowing. ” </p><p>― Nietzche</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter was so incredibly hard for me to write. I have absolutely no idea why. Nothing was working and my amazing beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter, and Nite Storm who gave me this prompt have been super helpful in figuring out some specifics of this fic and I couldn't have done it without them. Thank you both.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                </p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal's hands gripped his steering wheel tightly until his knuckles had gone white. He stared at the hospital that was lit up like a beacon in the middle of the snow storm. Several cars littered the parking lot, only one being one that he recognized. Donald's silver BMW. </p><p>Hannibal pulled his phone from his pocket and called Donald’s number, the phone going to his ear. It rang several times before it was finally answered, a tired sounding voice on the other side. </p><p>“Oh, Hannibal. I’m sorry,” Donald muttered. “I meant to let you know that I was called away and can’t meet tonight.” </p><p>Hannibal’s head tipped to the side at the blatant lie, his eyes hard set on the BMW. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel and he inhaled deeply. “Oh, something came up?” Hannibal asked as innocently as he could manage. “Such a shame. I had a lovely vintage picked out.” </p><p>“Yeah. Bit of a family emergency. Had to head home urgently,” Donald continued with a sigh, feigning regret wonderfully. “Could we take a rain check?” </p><p>“Absolutely Donald. Just let me know when you have an open night available.” </p><p>“Will do. Have a good night, Hannibal.” </p><p>“You as well,” Hannibal answered tightly, lowering the phone and ending the call.  He shoved it back into his pocket and climbed from his car, his bag in tow. </p><p>The medical center doors opened for him and he made his way to the stairwell and started up the several flights he would need to take to reach Donald’s office. Hannibal doubted there would be very many cameras, but they were likely to be present in the elevators. </p><p>On the floor to Donald’s office, Hannibal stopped and opened his bag, pulling out his clear plastic paint coveralls. They were ridiculous looking, utterly ridiculous and normally Hannibal wouldn’t dream of wearing such obnoxious plastic, but it made cleanup easier. After several years of scrubbing blood from his skin and digging it out from under his fingernails before spending hours burning everything, he had gone looking for a solution. The hardware store just happened to have the best answer. </p><p>The plastic crinkled and made a sticky pulling sound as it rubbed against itself, though Hannibal had grown used to the odd music the polymer would make as he walked. </p><p>The hallways were empty. Donald had to be the only one in this part of the hospital and that only benefited Hannibal all the more. In and out, easy. Simple. </p><p>Hannibal didn’t knock. There was no point. His hand reached for the door handle and he pushed open the office door, stepping into the room. He pulled the door closed behind him and locked it at a surprised sound from the man behind him. </p><p>“What are you-oh.” Hannibal turned around to see a nervous smile on Donald’s face. Donald’s hands rested on his hips under his lab coat and he gave a breath of highly strung laughter. “Doctor Lecter, I didn’t expect-” </p><p>“I doubted you did,” Hannibal answered with a small nod. He set his bag aside on the floor and stepped a little further into the room. He could sense Donald’s eyes drifting over him curiously, no doubt wondering why he was wearing such a laughable covering over his suit and tie, but Hannibal ignored it. “Lying is a bit rude, Donald. Wouldn’t you agree?” </p><p>There was another airy laugh from the man and he nodded, chewing on his tongue. He straightened his tie, cleared his throat and slowly sat behind his desk. Hannibal slowly stepped closer to the desk, his pace even and unthreatening, though he could feel the hesitancy radiating off of the man behind the desk. </p><p>“Forgive me. I thought a family emergency would be easier to swallow than an <em>I’m not in the mood</em>,” Donald explained softly. “If I would have known you were right outside I would have welcomed you in.” </p><p>“I’m sure.” Hannibal gave a small nod and let his hand trail over the desk top, his hand easily scooping up a pair of scissors. He stepped past the desk, heading to the window to look out through the blinds and into the parking lot that was nearly covered in a blanket of fresh snow, Hannibal footprints fully gone now. “Why are you here so late Donald?” </p><p>“Had a patient need something. Was actually just about to check on them. Would you like to-” </p><p>“No, thank you,” Hannibal answered quickly with a shake of his head. Talking patients with Donald was the very last thing that Hannibal wanted to do unless that conversation held one very special science experiment by the name of Will Graham. A science experiment that deserved to be dissected under a microscope now.  One that deserved to let the fire burn him from the inside out. “I would rather talk about another patient of ours.” </p><p>“Will Graham,” Donald concluded, voice still somewhere behind Hannibal and he let it stay there. There was no reason to turn around. Not yet. “Would you like to-” </p><p>“Will Graham,” Hannibal interrupted, hand clutching a little tighter in a fist around the scissors in his hand. “I would like to discuss our next steps with Will Graham.” </p><p>“How did you come to procure such an interesting person?” Donald questioned, the small swivel of his chair sounding as he turned to face Hannibal, but Hannibal kept his back to the man. “I know you’re fond of the rarified. Besides his encephalitis, what makes him so rare?” </p><p>Hannibal was silent for a moment as he thought over the man in question. A man who was far more dangerous than Hannibal had originally thought him to be. “Will has a remarkably vivid imagination,” Hannibal finally answered softly. “Beautiful. Pure empathy.” Hannibal sighed as he thought over the way that Will could read anyone and everyone and the way that he held back when it came to Hannibal. How he let Hannibal have his space when he didn’t give it to someone like Jack Crawford or even Beverly. Even if Will didn’t have access to every room in Hannibal’s mind, he had enough to grip to. “Nothing he can't understand, and that terrifies him.”</p><p>“So you set his mind on fire.” It wasn’t quite a question, but the inflection at the end of the sentence gave Hannibal the impression that Donald’s was trying to make Hannibal see that what he was doing was wrong. Trying to convince Hannibal to let all this go. </p><p>“Imagination is an interesting accelerant for a fever,” Hannibal offered, slowly turning away from the frantic falling of snowflakes. He wasn’t going to let this go. He couldn’t let this go. He was far too close to Will to let Will die in any other way than by his encephalitis, but Doctor Sutcliffe was different. Hannibal needed the doctor to keep his mouth shut and he was in the perfect position to make that happen. </p><p>“So...” Donald let out a small breath. “How far does this go? Do you put out the fire, or do you let him burn?” </p><p>Hannibal stepped to the side of the desk and Donald looked up at Hannibal from where he was still sitting in his office chair. “Will is my friend,” Hannibal explained easily. It was true. Will was his friend. A person who had become dear to Hannibal, but adoration did not overcome self-preservation. “We will put out the fire when it's necessary.” </p><p>He was offering Donald an out. He was being generous. He didn’t necessarily feel entirely generous, but he knew that Donald had potential if the man was alive. There was so much that the doctor could offer the medical field and Hannibal didn’t want to deny the world any of the doctor’s findings, but if Donald didn’t take the life line that Hannibal was offering, then Hannibal would have no choice. </p><p>“He has asked for more tests,” Donald informed with a small shrug, eyes flickering towards the locked door of his office. </p><p>“But now that we have confirmed what it is, it'll be easier to hide from him.” </p><p>There was a small shift in Donald’s eyes, as if he had finally come to the conclusion that Hannibal had no intention of giving up his grasp on Will Graham, even if it was disguised as scientific exploration. </p><p>“I’m not doing this anymore, Hannibal. I was certain that I made that fairly clear earlier.” The life reserve had been tossed aside, lost to the waves of the ocean and it was time for Donald to sink below the surface. Hannibal had no further use of the man.  “He deserves to know exactly what is happening to him and I am going to tell him.” </p><p>The conviction in Donald’s voice was enough to add weight to the scissors in Hannibal’s hand. There was a tension in Hannibal muscles, something pulled so incredibly tight it was painful. A built up to such explosive proportions that when Hannibal finally raised the shears and brought them down into the vein of Donald’s neck, all of the pressure and tensions vanished instantly. </p><p>It brought psychological relief. Donald would be out of the way. Donald was no longer a problem. The rock in Hannibal’s shoe was no longer a bother. </p><p>There was a stunned gasp and a gurgle as Hannibal twisted the scissors in his hand. He watched as Donald’s hands shook and his arms trembled, trying to reach up and grab a hold of something, Hannibal’s arm being the item of purchase. </p><p>Hannibal smirked; brows raised as stepped out of the way. He tugged the blades free and watched crimson decorate the desk and floor. No matter how often he saw this moment, how many times he watched blood flow from someone’s body it would always be something gorgeously satisfying. He derived pleasure from the way that Donald’s hands had slipped from his arm and had gone to his neck in some vain attempt to stop the flow of blood. </p><p>Hands slowly dropped back to their sides and Donald’s head slumped back in his chair. The dripping of blood was melodic in its slowing rhythm as it joined the puddle on the ground, causing it to slowly spread further across the floor. </p><p>Hannibal stepped around to the other side of Donald, pushing the chair back enough that he could stand in front of Donald. He glanced over the man, the wide, clear eyes, the unmoving chest, the gash in his neck. </p><p>Hannibal hadn’t given much thought into Donald’s death. He had given Donald multiple chances as well. He did consider Donald a good colleague, even if they weren’t friends. But he couldn’t keep himself steeled enough towards the right thing. Or Hannibal’s <em>right</em>. Hannibal wanted nothing more than to degrade, humiliate, and subjugate the man for being such a pathetic and wishy-washy human. The man couldn’t keep his mouth shut.</p><p>He would never be able to close his mouth again. If he wanted to tell all of their secrets, tell all of their malpractice, give up on what Hannibal specifically wanted, then Hannibal would help the man. </p><p>He opened the scissors fully and gripped them tightly in hand, the other reaching for Donald’s mouth, prying it open. The edge of the blade was pressed to one corner of Donald’s lips and he sawed at skin there, the blade far duller than anything that Hannibal would have used. </p><p>The other side of his mouth was graced with the same pleasantries, Hannibal’s hands light in their work. He let his hands move slowly in the silence of the room, taking in the way that the flesh made way for the blade, the way it stripped apart, the way the knife sounded as it gripped and glided through skin. </p><p>Hannibal set the scissors on the desk and reached out, hands taking either side of Donald’s mouth and pulled. He felt more than heard the cracking of bones in his palms. The jaw separated from the rest of Donald and Hannibal reached out for the scissors, cutting the skin back and up to Donald’s ears before he stepped back, looking over his work.</p><p>It wasn’t quite as impressive as some of his other work, but the statement was clear. Will would absolutely understand it if he saw it. Donald couldn’t keep his mouth shut and Hannibal made sure he would be heard loud and clear. </p><p>Hannibal leaned against the desk, eyes flickering over Donald for a bit longer as relaxation and happiness soaked right into Hannibal’s bones. It was a feel he chased, one he wanted to still feel there when he was older and could no longer fight for it. </p><p>His eyes flickered closed as he savored the moment like a fine wine. His hand didn’t release its grip on the seemingly inconsequential shears in his hand. For the first time in a month or so, his body and mind relaxed. At that moment there were no expectations upon him, no deadlines and no schedules to meet. No one to try to gain the upper hand on and manipulate to his plan. Nothing but him. He was in, he had made it, he was the winner, plain and simple. </p><p>With the Glasgow Smile in place, the scissors were closed and returned to the desktop. Hannibal cleared the pool of blood simply enough and made sure that no trails of blood followed him before he carefully stripped himself of his plastic coveralls, made sure they were folded inside out and shoved them back into his bag. </p><p>Bag in hand and heart finally lighter than it had been, Hannibal left Sutcliffe’s office and made his way back down the hall and to the stairs before he stepped out into the swirling snow and to his car. </p><p>Done. Another thing to tick off his to-do list. Another step closer to finally being free of the parasite that had decided to cling to his life. One step closer to being safe once more. Just a little longer. It wouldn’t take long now. Donald had already confirmed that Will was in advanced stages, so time was merely something that Hannibal had to bide. And he was a master at waiting. What was another week or two of playing friend? </p><p>Only Will wasn’t just a friend. He was so much more than a friend and somehow the furthest thing from a friend that Hannibal had ever experienced. </p><p>It wasn’t long before Hannibal found himself pulling up in front of his home. He gathered his things and went inside, heading down to the pantry. He made quick work of cleaning his suit and bleaching down the sink, adding to the chemical clean scent the entire room held. </p><p>With everything cleaned within an inch of its life, Hannibal went back into his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine. He scented the glass as he made his way to his study, ready to settle in with a good book for a few hours and it was going to plan until his phone rang. </p><p>Finding that it was Jack, Hannibal sighed. He didn’t want to speak to the man. He had come to the conclusion that over the last few interactions between the two of them, Jack had become more a nuisance than a friend. Hannibal was becoming just as much a dog on a leash as he made the rest of his team and Hannibal wasn’t enjoying the prospect. </p><p>So instead of answering Jack, he sent a text to Beverly. He knew she would give him everything within reason and an exaggeration. She had a better head on her shoulders than most people Hannibal knew and he preferred her company far over that of Crawford’s. </p><p>Hannibal stared at the text for a moment and sipped at his wine thoughtfully, setting his book aside in favor of this far more interesting narrative. He hadn’t expected Donald to be found quite as quickly as he had been. Hannibal had been more than positive it would take at least until the next morning’s first appointment to be stood up before anyone truly realized that the doctor was missing. It wasn’t like Donald had a family to go home to. He was divorced, lived alone, and his kids lived with their mother. No one would be searching for him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dr. Sutcliffe was found dead in his office. Jack wants to know if you have any information about him because you were apparently friends.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Bev</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal set his wine aside and inhaled deeply, a small smile playing at his lips as his thumbs hovered over his keyboard. He thought for a moment longer before typing out his answer. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>We are </em>
  <em>colleagues. I wouldn’t consider us friends. How does Jack know about us?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-H.L.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal waited for a moment more, something a bit giddy in his chest as he waited for the answer from Beverly. Another call from Jack lit up his screen and he simply declined it, far more interested in what Beverly had to say. </p><p>
  <em>Will mentioned it. He told me that you introduced them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Bev</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Yes. I’ve been having Will work with Donald. He’s a</em>
  <em>. Will is getting some testing done to see if maybe we could pinpoint his sleepwalking issues. I forgot that I mentioned that to Jack previously. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-H.L. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal glanced over the text once more, making sure that anything to do with the deceased doctor was in the present tense before sending it. It was far too early to refer to him in the past tense. </p><p>There was a long silence that filled the study, causing Hannibal’s chest to constrict in the same entertaining way it always did when someone found any of his bodies. Afraid of finally being caught and entirely intrigued by what the people who found the art thought of it. Hannibal was no Botticelli, but he strived to be a master in his craft. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>After I’m done at the scene, can I stop by? We need to talk.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Bev</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal blinked and sat up a little straighter on his settee. He read over the text several times with a deep breath. He had known it from the first day he had met her. She was dangerous. Dangerous just like Will. A different dangerous, but terrifying all the same. </p><p>It took a minute of rereading the message before he answered in the affirmative and asking about whether or not she had had a chance to eat dinner. A negative response prompted Hannibal to his feet and towards his kitchen to fix up a quick something or other for the agent to to hopefully mask the strong scent of bleach that still clung to the air. </p><p>He pulled together a chimichurri chicken with some rice. It wasn’t the most complicated dish, but the fresh cilantro had done its job of masking anything chemical left over from his cleaning spree earlier. </p><p>A knock on his front door pulled him from the kitchen and he wiped his hands off on a towel that was then tossed over his shoulder. He pulled open his front door to be greeted with a tight smile from Beverly. Her hair was down and instead of red, she wore a black leather jacket that was littered white with snow. </p><p>Hannibal stepped back to let her in and she stomped off her boots and shook the snow from her hair before stepping into the house and closing the door behind herself. Hannibal turned back in the direction of the kitchen, but glanced over his shoulder when Beverly didn’t follow him. </p><p>Instead, she was looking over the entryway curiously, the same way that Will had when Will had seen it the first time. Like a cat or a dog. Head tipped to the side, eyes taking in everything carefully. Or maybe that was how they both had been trained. Both were observant because the skill had been drilled into them instead of it being a natural reaction. </p><p>It sent a bad chill down Hannibal’s spine. She hadn’t looked like that the first time she had stepped into his home. Maybe Hannibal was reading far too deeply into it. She had just been in the hospital with Will and was jet lagged after a flight. Maybe she had been too tired to properly take in his home before. </p><p>She must have noticed the staring from Hannibal because she straightened up, that tight smile once more over her lips and she followed Hannibal down the hall and into the kitchen. Hannibal went back to his work, plating the dish in an uncomfortable silence as Beverly sat at the bar stool. </p><p>Hannibal set the plate in front of her and she glanced up at Hannibal with a quiet <em>thank you</em>, before digging into it. Hannibal watched for a moment before pouring her a glass of wine in hopes of giving himself a task to accomplish to not sit in the silence. Even after taking the glass, when Beverly didn’t speak, Hannibal finally took the initiative. </p><p>“I had half a mind that Will would be joining us,” he offered and Beverly’s movements freezing made him pause in removing his apron. He looked over the woman who didn’t dare meet his gaze for a moment longer before pulling the fabric from his body and putting it away. “Did Alana finally get Jack to leave Will alone?”  </p><p>Beverly’s normally steady hands trembled and Hannibal was surprised that the woman didn’t spill her wine as she brought the glass to her lips to sip from it. He leaned against the island opposite the woman and waited for her to speak. </p><p>The wine glass was set aside and Alana gave a deep breath. She licked over her teeth, eyes still down on her partially eaten plate of food. “It tastes wonderful, Doctor. Thank you.” </p><p>“Hannibal, please,” the man insisted, voice a bit softer now as he took in the uneasiness around the woman. “What happened, Beverly? The concept of deflection does not work on me.” </p><p>Beverly gave a tiny and breathless laugh, dark every finally flickering up to meet Hannibal’s. “I didn’t think it would. Will isn’t the only one who knows the tricks psychiatrists use. We all have to fake our ways through psych evals enough to know exactly what to say.” </p><p>“I should warn Alana,” Hannibal teased lightly, causing Beverly to once more give an airy laugh. "What is wrong Beverly? Was Sutcliffe's scene that horrible?" </p><p>"No," Beverly whispered, taking another bite of the food. She chewed it in silence and swallowed before answering. "I didn't think Will was capable of it."</p><p>That piqued Hannibal's curiosity and he gave a confused look. His fingers tapped the counter top and he licked his lips. "Capable of what?" Hannibal questioned. </p><p>"Will was arrested." </p><p>Hannibal's eyes widened and he straightened himself up from where he had been leaning against the counter. His tapping fingers froze and he found himself struggling for words, only one gracelessly leaving his lips. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>The giddiness was gone, shattered into a million pieces and all that was left was an icy coldness that splintered through his entire body, a feeling that he hadn’t felt since he was a boy back in Lithuania. A feeling that he had never wanted to experience ever again. </p><p>Beverly took another shaky drink of wine and Hannibal nearly wanted to rip it from her hand so that she would just speak instead of dragging on this feeling that was slowly making Hannibal’s stomach churn and his ribs ache. </p><p>“Will was arrested for Donald Sutcliffe’s death,” Beverly finally explained and Hannibal once more found himself unable to form any words, heart beating painfully in his chest. “He found the doctor in his office. Will was covered in blood and holding the scissors that killed the doctor. He was also the only one on that floor aside from the doctor.”</p><p>“What do you mean? He was supposed to be in the hospital for another night.” Hannibal uneasily stepped around the counter and came to stand closer to Beverly, mouth desert dry. She was lying. Making it up. It was a joke. Will was being kept at an entirely separate facility across the city. There was no way that Will could have ended up at the Noble Hills Care Center. “I was supposed to pick him up tomorrow and take him home.” </p><p>
  <em>Said they wanted to run some more testing tonight.</em>
</p><p>Will’s words swirled through his head and he shook it as if that would rid him of the way they dug into him, stripped him to pieces as Beverly only added more colors to the picture that was being painted. </p><p>“Johns Hopkins, upon learning that Will’s fever occurred before his leg got infected and that Sutcliffe had been treating him, sent Will to get more testing done with Donald. He had apparently been sleepwalking around Hopkins as well and the nurses were starting to worry about him.” Beverly gave a deep sigh. “Was Dr. Sutcliffe in the habit of seeing patients after-hours when he's the only one in the office?”</p><p>“He is-was very accommodating,” Hannibal muttered, the correction on his tongue not forced like he normally would have made it. His mind was the furthest from Donald as it could have been. All of his attention was strictly for Will. “Where’s Will now?” </p><p>“In custody.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes tightly as he tried to think over everything that had happened that evening. Maybe he had missed something. Will’s car was nowhere in the parking lot. There was no immediate scent of Will in those halls, but Will had become far more fever scented than anything that was his natural aroma. </p><p>“How did Will get to Donald?” </p><p>“The hospital transferred him,” Beverly explained in a quiet tone. “Will said that Sutcliffe was going to return him to Hopkins when his MRI was finished.” </p><p>“Was the MRI completed?” </p><p>“I-I don’t know.” Beverly shrugged. “You would need to speak to Brian for that. I didn’t look at it. My job was looking over Will. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him like that before.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes and rubbed at them for a moment while he tried his best to gather his thoughts. “What did Will say he remembered?” </p><p>“He said he remembered being transferred to Noble Hills, going into the MRI, getting out and, uh, finding Doctor Sutcliffe's body.”</p><p>“No confusion?”</p><p>“Well, not that he was aware of.” Beverly pushed her hair from her face and gave another sigh. “But he was covered in blood, Hannibal. The MRI machine was covered in blood, he touched the scissors and he was the only one there. His bloody footprints are up and down that hallway between the testing room and Sutcliffe’s office. No one else could have done it.” </p><p>Hannibal nearly laughed aloud. Not because the situation was humorous. It was far from humorous. If anything, it was the absolute opposite of what Hannibal had wanted. He had screwed up eloquently and he could admit it to himself, but he could never voice the words to anyone. </p><p>The question was how did he fix this? Did he want to fix this? Or maybe this was just another way to get Will out of his path. Maybe this was just as wonderful an option as just letting Will die had been. </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply and looked around the kitchen for a moment, something a little more calming filling his body at the thought. The guilt was still just as present, but this was an option he could take. Maybe this was a better alternative to letting Will die. Of course Will would be locked up, most likely behind Frederik Chilton’s stone walls, but at least Will would have medical care and he would stay alive. Especially if this last MRI was seen successfully and the encephalitis was caught. </p><p>They could treat him and he would be good as new. Still trapped behind walls, but he would be better. He would live and Hannibal preferred that idea far above letting Will die. Will was a brilliant man with an even more magnificent mind and it honestly would be a shame to strip the world of him. Locking him away wasn’t much better, but he could still accomplish things from behind bars and under Chilton’s care. It would be difficult, but if Abel Gideon had been allowed to get more of his medical journals published after being incarcerated, then Will would be able to do the same. </p><p>“Maybe this is what he needs Beverly,” Hannibal offered after a moment of silence. </p><p>Beverly’s face dropped into something absolutely torn to pieces and he looked away from Hannibal. Once more, Hannibal could see the sheen of tears in her eyes, but he knew she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t let a single one fall while in front of another person. </p><p>“What he needs,” Beverly repeated softly, the look of dislike on her face at the bitterness of the words in her mouth. “Will isn’t a bad person!” </p><p>“I didn’t imply that he was,” Hannibal said calmly, a hand reaching out to take Beverly’s shoulder, the leather still icy cold from the snow under his palm. Beverly met his gaze and all Hannibal could see was utter pain in her inky depths. He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "He wasn't safe to be on his own anymore. I was putting things in place to keep him supervised at all times to make sure he was safe. Obviously, I didn't act quickly enough. I thought he would be fine in the hospital."</p><p>"You were going to have Will watched?" Beverly asked in shock, her breathing steadily growing more rapid. "I didn't think- I mean, I didn't see- I know Will! I've known Will for years. He wouldn't- he couldn't do this." </p><p>“Will needed a more constant help than I could provide,” Hannibal explained, releasing Beverly’s shoulder to return to his own wine. “I was going to speak to Alana and see if she knew of any full time clinics that Will could stay in while we tried to figure out why he was losing time and sleep walking.” </p><p>“I doubt it would mean much now,” Beverly grumbled, stabbing aggressively at a piece of chicken and sending rice flying out over the counter. “Sorry,” she muttered, quickly attempting to clean up the mess. Hannibal grabbed a rag and wet it lightly in the sink, passing it over to her. She took it and wiped at the counter. </p><p>“Will can still be given help where he is, Beverly. Recovery is a long road, but it is possible once there’s a diagnosis.” </p><p>“It’s an open and shut case. Even if he can’t remember doing it, he’s the only one it could have possibly been. He’s going to be put away. Even if he can recover, what’s the point? He’ll be stuck there.” </p><p>“He has a defense. His competency to stand trial could be called into question. His amnesia does not seem temporary. He has never regained any of his lost time. He could have a possible insanity plea.” </p><p>“Do you have any idea how difficult that would be to pull off? How good of a fucking lawyer Will would need to obtain to somehow-” Beverly cut herself off with a pained snort through her nose and snatched up her wine glass, finishing it off. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but would you happen to have anything stronger than wine?” </p><p>“Would brandy suffice?” </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a small nod and made his way to his cabinet to obtain the glass and drink. He brought them back to the woman who had lowered her head into her hands and was inhaling as steadily as she could. He poured her a glass and set the bottle down before heading to the sink to begin washing the dishes. </p><p>“Hannibal, Will isn’t like this. He’s stubborn and obnoxious and always has to be right about everything and he normally is. He makes up his mind and sticks to it. He doesn’t pick random paths to travel down.” </p><p>Hannibal began to fill the sink with warm soapy water and watched as Beverly downed her glass like a shot before helping herself to more. Hannibal winced slightly at the amount of money that was being ingested unceremoniously, but he couldn’t exactly blame her. He nearly wanted to join her for what he had done. </p><p>His mind desperately wanted to play the <em>what if</em> game, but he shoved the ideas away. Thinking about the what if’s weren’t going to do him any good. This was where he was now, this was the hand he was dealt and this was what he was going to have to work with. Fate had played her turn and Hannibal was trapped in a zugzwang of his own making. But it wasn’t a check mate yet. He still had options. </p><p>“He’s being erratic,” Beverly continued on between smaller sips of her drink. Hannibal listened carefully as he put a pan into the water and began to scrub at it. “You’re his doctor. Help me understand him.” </p><p>Hannibal gave a faint smile. “I feel like you know him better out of the two of us.” </p><p>“He started cooking.”</p><p>Hannibal’s hands paused and he glanced up to find a confused look over the woman’s face. “There’s nothing wrong with cooking, Beverly. I’m not sure where the concern comes from. He mentioned that he felt inadequate in the kitchen once upon a time. Betting oneself isn’t a crime.” </p><p>“Not like this.” Beverly motioned to her still partly eaten plate. “Will can cook. I’m not saying he can’t. He’s a genius with a grill in the summer and his fish is always delightful and he can read a package just fine, but he’s not a gourmet chef.” </p><p>“Gourmet?” Hannibal couldn’t stop the slight smile from spreading. “What has he been trying to make?” </p><p>“He said you let him borrow a bunch of your recipes,” Beverly replied lightly and Hannibal’s body froze in place, the sick feeling from earlier that day all of sudden right back where it had been. A lead ball in his stomach. He didn’t dare look up from his work, just willed his limbs to pick up their scrubbing once more. “Wanted me to come over for dinner next week to try something he had been working on.” </p><p>“Did he mention what it was?” </p><p>“Roasted bone marrow or something like that. It’s supposed to be good?” Beverly gave a small laugh and shook her head. “I’m sure you’d know better than me.” </p><p>“Yes,” Hannibal muttered with a nod as he finished washing off the last dish and dying it. The picture of Olivia Garcia came to mind. That was the dish Hannibal had made from her and then later used some of her other bones to make a broth for some stew. “It’s a delightful dish if made correctly.” </p><p>Did Beverly not know? She couldn’t have possibly bought that lie from Will, could she? There was absolutely no way that Will had kept quiet about the recipes. Will had an entire box stuffed full of connections to all of Hannibal’s dinner parties and missing people who belonged to the Ripper. There was no way he had kept that a secret from the FBI, especially not Beverly. As much as Hannibal might be annoyed by it, Beverly did know far more about Will than anyone else in the world did. </p><p>“You know,” Beverly mused, finally going back to her food and eating some. Hannibal put the dish away and turned back to the woman, waiting for her to continue. “Will said he was onto something with the Chesapeake Ripper. Said he had figured it all figured out in his head, but the evidence wasn’t ready yet.” </p><p>Hannibal’s tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth and his hands turned into fists at the edge of the counter, eyes falling to the knife block within reach. His fingers twitched to snatch up one of the blades. Would anyone know she was here? Had she told anyone? She was becoming a loose thread that needed to be cut just like Will. If she kept pushing, Hannibal wouldn’t have a choice. </p><p>“Did he?” </p><p>“Yeah. A month or so ago. Said he saw something that gave it away, but it was too small to pin anything concrete to whoever it was.” Beverly shrugged and stabbed at another piece of chicken. </p><p>Something in Hannibal’s blood was prickling as it pulsed through him. Something in his chest was clawing at his ribs to be released from its cage and set to work, but he held it back with a clenched jaw. He couldn’t just jump into this like he had with Donald. Look where that had gotten him. This entirely new mess due to his stupidity and anger. The same anger that would have eventually spurred him into Will’s path. It would have started this mess all over again. How had it gotten so convoluted so quickly? </p><p>“Did he mention who he thought it was?” Hannibal asked as calmly as he could, brows raised curiously. </p><p>Beverly shook her head, lips pursed. “Nah. I doubt anyone would believe him now, even if he did know who it was.” </p><p>“Would you believe him?” Hannibal pushed himself from the counter and once more made his way around it, picking up his wine glass and finishing off his serving that had gone a little past his taste for aerating the vintage. </p><p>“Of course I’d believe him, but what good would that do?” Beverly sighed and set her fork down, the dish finally finished. “He said something odd too.” She gave a laugh and got to her feet, taking her plate and the rag to the sink. Hannibal let her pass and watched as she went about washing the dish as if she were at home in his kitchen. “He had this weird thought,” -her index finger tapped at her temple- “that he was going to feel powerful for catching the Ripper. That once he gave Jack the name that he would, oh I don’t know. He explained it like he would feel the same high you would on heroin, as if I would know what that would feel like.” </p><p>Hannibal’s fingers tapped on the counter, eyes once more falling to the knife block that was a bit further out of his reach. Then they found their way over the woman who was ringing out the rag now. Her jacket was bunched up on her hip revealing her firearm in its holster. He would have to beat that gun. He could do it, but he didn’t exactly want to. If he even so much as hesitated, she would have him. He had to be smart about it. </p><p>“And then he said that he pictured his life after he gave up the Ripper and he saw himself... Empty,” Beverly mumbled, picking up the dried plate and pointing towards the cabinets. </p><p>“Right of the stove,” Hannibal instructed, pointing to where the plate belonged and Beverly nodded, heading towards it. “Empty?” </p><p>“Yeah.” The dish clanked as it was placed atop the others. “Like catching the Ripper would take away his joy or something. I told him there were plenty of other killers to try to catch, like the Butcher, but he wasn’t having it.” </p><p>
  <em>There’s enjoyment when I hold someone’s life in my hands, I won’t pretend that there isn't. I like killing. I like the feeling of being powerful that comes with it.</em>
</p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes as the conversation played through his mind. He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it, but he was sure that Will had expressed the same sentiment to Beverly, but within a legal sense of being so he didn’t raise any form of suspicion. </p><p>“I wouldn’t expect him to want anything to do with the Butcher,” Hannibal offered, catching Beverly’s attention with a raised brow. “He expressed his disinterest in the Butcher.” </p><p>“He dislikes all of the killers he catches. I think all of us do, but he feels it deeper.” Beverly rested her arms over the counter and leaned against it with a sigh. “He’s the one who had to live through them, become them and it’s finally cracked him.” </p><p>“Jack pushed him too hard.” </p><p>Beverly gave a nod, looking at the counter and causing her hair to curtain her face. “I should have listened to you. I should have listened to myself. He should never have been allowed back into the field. All of us were pushing him towards it. We were so desperate to find the Achilles Mutilator that none of us cared what it was doing to him. It wasn’t under he showed up in the middle of the night at my place unable to sleep with nightmares that I started to try to convince him to stop volunteering for Jack.” </p><p>“And what about the Ripper. What’s going to happen now?” </p><p>“We’ll just go back to the way it was, I suppose.” Beverly winced. “That sounds so awful.” She lowered her face into her hands with a growl. “I’m such a shitty friend. It’s never going to be normal. What’s wrong with me?”</p><p>“It’s only natural that you would want a stable ground to stand on at this time, Beverly. There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself,” Hannibal replied, but his words did nothing to bring the woman’s face out of her hands and she only groaned again and shook her head. </p><p>“I should have been protecting him! I just thought that, I don’t know, that we really had put enough fail safes in place for him.” Her head finally snapped back up and her eyes wandered over Hannibal carefully, causing Hannibal to unconsciously shift under the gaze. “You’re surprisingly calm considering all of this.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t do us any good for two of us to be having a breakdown,” Hannibal excused away easily, though the words were sticky in his mouth. “When will his bail be posted?” </p><p>“If he gets one, it should be in a day or two. He still had to be processed and taken to a judge.” Beverly’s brows only furrowed further though as he regarded Hannibal again. “You really don’t seem at all concerned about Will.” </p><p>“I assure you that I am going to do everything in my power to find him proper representation and-” </p><p>“That’s not what I’m talking about, Doctor Lecter.” </p><p>Hannibal’s brow ticked up at the sudden formality and he couldn’t help but compare it to the way that Will would use his title when Will was upset with him. Maybe the two of them were even closer than Hannibal had originally considered them. Hannibal had been under the assumption that because Will kept referring to Beverly as nothing more than a coworker that that was where it had ended, but there was obviously more of a friendship, at least on Beverly’s side of everything. </p><p>“Enlighten me.” </p><p>“You don’t seem worried about him. Not in the same way he worries over you,” she grumbled, eyes darker than before. She stood upright and folded her arms over her chest. </p><p>“Do you care to explain?” Hannibal asked cautiously. He hadn’t thought his reaction was anything out of the ordinary. He hadn’t been wrong. There was no point in both of them having a nervous breakdown in the middle of his kitchen, even if Hannibal felt like his edges were fraying as Will’s predicament was slowly settling further into his bones. </p><p>“He was questioning himself about something and I don’t know how to explain it, but he mentioned that...” Beverly trailed off with a huff of air. </p><p>“Yes?” Hannibal pressed carefully. </p><p>“He was trying to do something for you. Give you something, I think? But apparently, he changed his mind. You made him hesitate.” </p><p>“Did I?” Hannibal wasn’t sure what to make of the words. Will didn’t seem like the type of person to hesitate in any situation. Especially not after his knife fight in some back alley in New Orleans. Not when everything in his life was held in a precarious balance. </p><p>“Like I said before, he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t question, he’s always so sure of himself.” Beverly rubbed at the back of her neck nervously. “Am I pulling at strings? I am trying so hard to see a way out of this for Will and there’s nothing.” Beverly folded her arms over her chest. “You’re the one he comes to, the one he trusts. You’re his everything. Please give me something to work with or something to help me help him. Please act like you care at least.” The words were desperate and her hand went  to her head before slowly carding through her dark hair. “Will’s my best friend. Please.” </p><p>“I’m not sure how else to help you other than offer any money related resources.” Hannibal inhaled deeply and glanced around the kitchen for an answer that wasn’t a lie through his teeth, hoping that maybe it would be written on the wall. A way to fix all of this and somehow still get exactly what he wanted out of all of it. “I find this as a step in the right direction to getting Will the help that he-” </p><p>“Bull shit,” Beverly whispered through a groan. “That’s such bull shit, Doctor Lecter and you know it. I know you know something that can help. Please? Anything at all. Please help me!” Her hands were thrown up in frustration before they fell back at her sides with a clap as they hit her dark jeans. “Please help show me that that sweet little, misunderstood and abused boy I knew growing up wasn’t a monster who would kill his own father. Please help me prove that this man who we both love is innocent, because he is and you know he is. I know you can feel it.” </p><p>“Love...” The word tasted like acid as it spilled over Hannibal’s tongue and past his teeth, down over his lips. It burned and was shockingly electric, like a toaster dropped into a bubble bath. Hannibal turned away from Beverly with a deep breath. “I wish I had more to give you, Beverly, but I’m afraid I don’t.” </p><p>“You know what hurts the most, Doctor Lecter?” Beverly stated in a low voice as she thrust herself past him and through the kitchen. Hannibal found himself struggling to keep up at her swift, neck breaking pace. He followed her out into the hall and towards his front door. “The fact that Will placed so much faith into you and you just don’t care. The fact that you were the only one who broke through his walls and aren’t doing a thing to help him.” Her voice trailed back to him, muffled under the clicking of her boots on his hard wood. “I think that hurts far worse than any <em>fuck you</em>, you could give either of us.” Hannibal felt the cold biting rush of winter against his skin as she ripped open his front door and stepped out into night. “Thanks for the food. Send me the bill. I would hate to be in debt to you.” She spun back around and looked over Hannibal with disdain. “Don’t bother helping with the lawyer or any other <em>money related resources</em>. I’ll figure it out myself. If I solve this, he’ll be free and we can finish working on this whole Ripper case that’s completely consumed him, finally clear it from his mind. Sorry to have been such a bother. Night.” </p><p>The door slammed shut and Hannibal blinked at the dark wood that was now in his face. His stomach churned and his muscles ached. His blood caught fire and there was something sharp in his gut. </p><p>Hannibal wound his way up to his room and went through the motions of getting into bed, but when he was finally against the pillow, he could only stare up at the ceiling. His grief came in waves, grueling, stealing appetite and sleep alike. In the quiet moments it choked the breath from his body and short circuited his mind. </p><p>He tried to lie to himself in the deafening silence of the night. He tried to convince himself that his only <em>crime </em>was not having been able to cope with rage, anger, and suspicion from the words Will allowed to spill unchecked. But he couldn’t swallow the pill. He couldn’t find a way to suppress the guilt welling up in him. </p><p>He tried to search through every room of his mind palace, even behind several locked doors, to try to discover if he had ever felt this extreme mix of emotions and he could only come up with the night that his sister had been murdered. For the third time in his life, he felt so cavernously empty and it was once again just for Will. </p><p>What was so special about Will? Nothing in any respect was special about the man, but somehow at the same time, every last atom of the man was made of absolute perfection. </p><p>Will’s rough and collapsed hands were Hannibal’s medication. Each touch breathed life back into him in a way he had never thought possible, forcing his cold heart to beat once more. Nothing had ever tasted as sweet or felt as lovely as the violence in a single kiss from Will’s lips. Those bottomless blue eyes had grabbed at Hannibal’s heart, forcefully with fists and had created some unexplainable and unfillable space inside of Hannibal. </p><p>His skin had been made of poison and his bones of fire. His mind had nibbled at Hannibal’s ears, his soul breathing hot against Hannibal’s collar. Will had made color erupt in the atmosphere and created the absolute lightest darkness. Will was a prayer on Hannibal’s lips with no god to go to and Hannibal had destroyed it all.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Sometimes I think about you when we eat. How I can break your bones with such ease. And tear you open to rearrange your ribs. Your heart must be so tender, your entrails so sweet. But my dear, I am such a disgusting person. I don’t deserve such a treat. ”<br/>― T0k0r010</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok guys, sorry it took so long to get another chapter out. I don't know if you're reading my other story, but I have two new jobs and have had to return to the land of the living instead of working graveyards, so it's been a big shift. I hope you enjoy this chapter with some words that are long over due.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><hr/><p>The fever was more than present on Will’s features when Hannibal looked over the man. He was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bloodshot. He was trembling and shivering, twitching. He had dark rings under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in the last three days and his skin was so pale it made the rings look like bruises permanently etched into his skin. </p><p>“Hannibal?” Will asked, voice scratchy and weak when those empty blue eyes finally rested on Hannibal. “I thought that Bev was going to-” </p><p>“I was informed that she was having issues coming up with the bond or finding a bail bondsman who would pay,” Hannibal explained softly, reaching out a hand to the skittish looking man. Will jumped and took a step back, looking over the outstretched palm. “I have made it perfectly clear to her that I would assist in any payment related issues. We have a meeting with a lawyer tomorrow morning.” </p><p>“I...” Will inhaled deeply with another shiver, glancing around the parking lot outside of the jail. It was once again snowing and Hannibal didn’t want to push Will, but it would be better to get the man inside of the car rather than have him exposed to the elements with the condition he was suffering. “I already have a public defen-”</p><p>“I have requested that my personal lawyer handle your case,” Hannibal assured, stepping a little closer to Will and taking Will’s arm in a gentle hold to pull Will towards the bentley. “I will hadn’t all the-” </p><p>“I can’t let you pay for all of this.” </p><p>Hannibal guided Will over to the passenger side of the bentley, through the snow, opening up the passenger door for Will. “I will get the bonds money back when you have your trail as long as you don’t skip town on me.” </p><p>“Trail?” Will questioned with a tired laugh that turned immediately into a sharp coughing fit that had Will clutching at the side of the car for balance. “What trail? I'm pleading guilty. I’m the only one who could have possibly done that and memory lapse isn’t enough of a defense. No judge will care if I can’t remember doing something I’ve obviously done.” </p><p>“Alana, Jack and I have been working on a defense for you.” </p><p>Will’s brows furrowed and he glanced over Hannibal carefully. “Beverly said that she was working on a defense.” </p><p>“Then I will get a hold of her and compare notes. Please get into the car, dear boy.” </p><p>Will slowly obeyed and Hannibal closed the car door before making his way to the driver’s side. </p><p>His hands felt smoldering in his gloves and his chest was constricted so tightly that Hannibal was having issues breathing. He rubbed at his burning eyes that had come from lack of sleep over the last few days. The guilt had been absolutely eating him alive and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He very rarely felt guilt and when he did he was able to justify it away, but in this case, he hadn’t been able to. He had enough reasons to be able to justify it, but it continued to sit heavy in his chest, gut and on his shoulders to the point where he hadn’t been eating either. </p><p>Hannibal climbed into the car and stared ahead at the fogging windshield for another moment or two before casting another look over the shivering man in his passenger seat. “Let’s get you home,” Hannibal whispered, starting the car and making sure the heater was up. </p><p>“What happened to my dogs?” Will asked, hands reaching out to the air vents most likely in hopes to warm his trembling and chilled fingers. </p><p>“Alana has been watching them for you. She said that she would keep them as long as needed,” Hannibal answered, tongue heavy and sticky in his mouth. “Would you like to return to Wolf Trap or stay in my house with me?” </p><p>Will turned in his chair, a blankness over his ill features so ghostly that Hannibal was almost certain that Will was about to have another seizure. “I can go back to Wolf Trap?” </p><p>“Until your court date.” Hannibal nodded. “Will, are you-” </p><p>“I feel like absolute shit, Hannibal.” Will’s eyes closed tightly and he licked his lips. “And if I’m being honest, you’re the absolutely last person I want to be seeing at the moment, though I honestly have no idea as to why.” </p><p>Did Will know? Will should have known that Hannibal had killed Donald the moment that Will saw the body. No one else would have come up with a message like Hannibal’s and understood it like Will. Unless the encephalitis had done far more damage than even Hannibal had known. Could Will really not remember? </p><p>Hannibal licked his lips with a deep breath and a firm nod before pulling from the parking stall. “Wolf Trap it is, then,” Hannibal muttered, letting the car fall into a tense silence after that. Not even the radio was on to help ease the quiet that fell between them and Hannibal didn’t dare turn it on in case it somehow did something to offend Will. </p><p>Hannibal had never considered the idea of walking on eggshells and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how that expression felt. An uneasiness that anything he could possibly say or do would set Will off flooded his blood stream. Will didn’t necessarily seem upset. Hannibal had seen the man upset. The man had gone silent and threw a temper tantrum with a body. This was something else entirely. Will was once again silent, but there was none of that hostility that had been there that night in Will’s kitchen. This was something else entirely. A hot, radiating irritability pouring off of Will and it only seemed to grow the longer they drove. </p><p>Hannibal pulled up Will’s snowy drive and parked the car, Will out in the snow before Hannibal had even a chance to turn off the ignition. Hannibal pulled his keys free and followed after Will, up the porch steps and to the door, unlocking it while Will looked at the door in annoyance. </p><p>“Will,” Hannibal tried as Will stepped into his home. “I would suggest-” </p><p>“I’m going to take a shower,” Will announced strongly. “When I get out, I expect dinner and medicine for me.” Hannibal’s brows knitted together at the order and he simply watched as Will made his way to the thermostat to make sure the heater was on. “Is that understood?” </p><p>Hannibal stared, unsure if he could form any words to answer the man with. Will turned back, arms folded over his chest with expectant eyes and Hannibal slowly nodded. </p><p>“Is there anything specific you would-” </p><p>“Whatever you can find in the kitchen is fine. I don’t care,” Will cut in, turning on his heel and stalking through to the second sitting room and to where the staircase was. Hannibal followed, his footsteps sounding hollow next to Will’s pounding up the stairs. He waited until he could hear the bathroom door slam shut and the water turn on before he pulled his gloves and coat from his body. </p><p>Dinner was absolutely nearly impossible for Hannibal to make. Most of the items in Will’s fridge had gone bad from how long Will had been away and the only thing that Hannibal could find in Will’s freezer were some freezer burnt chicken legs and some hamburger patties. </p><p>With finally some mushrooms, broth, rice, an onion and some butter, Hannibal got to work on a risotto. He hoped it would be light enough to not upset Will’s stomach and at the same time not be mocked for the simplicity of it. </p><p>Hannibal was plating the dish when the sound of footsteps carried down the stairs. Hannibal glanced up to find Will, whose curls were absolutely dripping water, stepping into the room. His skin looked far more flushed and Hannibal assumed that the man had taken a rather warm shower to combat the chills of his fever. </p><p>Will held himself tightly, wrapped up in a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. His face was still unshaven and Hannibal found the sight odd to say the least. Hannibal still hadn’t been able to settle completely on what he thought Will’s style was, but a bit more trimmed and clean was definitely the direction that Hannibal had bet. </p><p>“Smells nice,” Will commented, stepping closer to the counter. </p><p>“There’s some medication and water on the table for you,” Hannibal explained as he pushed a steaming bowl towards Will. “I would suggest sleeping when you have finished eating. I would be more than happy to do some shopping for you in the meantime.” </p><p>Will gave an absent nod, hands taking the bowl and clutching it close to his chest to consume its warmth. Hannibal couldn’t help the concerned expression from covering his face no matter how badly he had wanted to hide it. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Will. </p><p>“I really don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” </p><p>Hannibal’s jaw numbly shut and he nodded. He couldn’t blame Will for the bluntness or rudeness. Hannibal deserved every lashing that Will wanted to dish out to him. Hannibal absolutely deserved all of the hurt, but when Will stepped over to the table where the tapped up, busted box full of recipes sat, Hannibal bit back the apology on his tongue. Will deserved the pain just as much as he did. Will had lied about being on Hannibal’s side, but that still didn’t stop the choking guilt. </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply, moving from the kitchen and heading in the direction of the front door to accomplish the shopping he had offered to do, but stopped at the feeling of sharp blue eyes in his back. He slowly turned towards the table and was met with a cold gaze. </p><p>“Yes?” Hannibal asked breathlessly, waiting for something, anything to come at him. For Will to finally spurt out that he knew the truth, knew absolutely everything, that Hannibal’s world was about to start crumbling down around him, but the accusations never came. </p><p>“Sit,” Will ordered, voice hoarse from fever. Will cleared his throat and dug his spoon through the risotto in his bowl without eating any of it. Hannibal hesitated for a long moment, but obeyed, taking the only other chair in the kitchen, across from Will at the rickety dining table. “Stay.” </p><p>“Will, I-” </p><p>“Silently.” </p><p>Hannibal fell quiet and sat back in his chair, simply watching as Will took the pills set out for him before finally eating a spoonful of rice. The only sounds in the entire room was the clinking of metal against a ceramic bowl and Will’s thoughtful chewing. </p><p>Hannibal normally prided himself on his patience, but Will was drawing it so thin that Hannibal felt it would snap. What was he doing? What did Will want? Why was Hannibal just sitting here, waiting for something, anything, to happen? </p><p>“Thank you,” Will finally said, breaking up the deafening quiet. Hannibal inhaled deeply, finally feeling like he had the permission to make such a noise. “It’s delicious, as always.” </p><p>“You’re welcome,” Hannibal offered carefully. </p><p>“Hannibal, I need to ask you something and I-I need...” Will sighed sharply through his nose and closed his dark set eyes. “I need you to be honest with me.” </p><p>“Of course,” Hannibal found himself saying, mouth dry. </p><p>“Do you think I killed him?” Will dropped the spoon into his bowl with a clank and used the heels of his hands to rub at his eyes. “Do you think that I killed Donald Sutcliffe?” </p><p>Hannibal took in the distressed man before him who was still shivering, hair finally no longer dripping. He looked so thin. Had he eaten anything in the last few days? Had he eaten anything at all since the hospital? His wrists looked like twigs and his cheeks were sunken and hollow.  </p><p>“No,” Hannibal said with a shake of his head. “I do not think you killed Doctor Sutcliffe.” </p><p>There was a sudden inhale and a nod from Will who lowered himself to the table, head hiding in his folded arms. His shoulders rose and fell in an odd pattern and Hannibal grimaced at a broken sob from Will. </p><p>“That’s why-”</p><p>“No,” Will interrupted. “Only speak when spoken to.” His fingers tangled into his curls, tugging at them as he continued to hide in his arms. A silence once more fell around them and Hannibal waited as patiently as he could for whatever was coming next. “Clean up the kitchen.” Will sat up and Hannibal blinked at the abruptness. Will passed by the table and left the room without another word, disappearing somewhere deep into the rest of the house. </p><p>Hannibal rose to his feet, taking care of Will’s dishes and washing the pan he had been using. Once the items were cleaned, Hannibal wandered in the direction that Will had gone, finding himself in the front room of the house. Will was curled up in his bed in the back corner of the room, propped up on a pillow with a book in hand, though he didn’t look too interested in what he was reading. </p><p>His eyes flickered up from the book before turning back to it. “Why am I upset with you?” Will asked boredly, turning a page. </p><p>Hannibal glanced around the room, shifting slightly on his feet as his mind continued to battle his heart, his chest and head both aching and pounding. He had never felt so out of place in his life. Not even in that snowed in cabin in the woods of Lithuania with soldiers around him that could have easily taken his life from him in a moment’s notice had he felt out of place. But this space, this moment in time didn’t belong to him. He was a spectator who was thrown into an acting role without knowing the script or how to improvise. </p><p>“Because as far as I can remember, I don’t have a reason to be upset with you,” Will continued on through Hannibal’s silence. The book closed with a thud and was tossed aside, allowing Will’s attention to focus fully on Hannibal who was suddenly so small under the gaze. “I know that you and Bev had a disagreement and you two said some things to each other, but other than you hurting one of my close friends,” -<em>So, they were friends</em><em>?-</em> “I have no reason to be mad at you.” </p><p>Hannibal licked his lips and slowly shook his head. “Beverly and I did have a disagreement about how to best go about getting you help, but I didn’t think that-” </p><p>“I don’t care what you think,” Will snapped, pushing himself up onto his knees, the mattress squeaking under him from the movement. The anger held his spine stiff and lit something in the icy depths of his eyes. “What is it about you that has me so fucking pissed off?” Will’s hands became fists at his side and his jaw clenched tightly. “I just want to strangle you, watch the life leave your eyes! Why am I so ticked off? And it absolutely has something to do with you! I know it does!” </p><p>There was something so terrified and vulnerable under the anger. Something so childlike, a person who was taught to fight and starved of the acceptance he craved. The pain beneath his skin was vibrantly present and Hannibal could see Will’s soul drowning in this persona he’d carved to fit into a world of indifference. </p><p>"You're my rock Hannibal. You're the one who has been lucid through all of this, seen these parts of my mind crumbling apart," Will continued. "The last thing I remember was being arrested. I don't even remember what Sutcliffe looked like." </p><p>“I’m not exactly sure what you’re wanting from me, Will,” Hannibal whispered, his hands clenching up with a deep breath. </p><p><em>Tell him!</em> his mind screamed at him so loudly that Hannibal was certain that Will would hear the thought. <em>Tell him, for crying out loud. Tell him now. Tell him exactly what you’re doing.</em></p><p>Hannibal hesitantly sat on the foot of Will’s bed, hand gently caressing over the bedspread. The room grew heavy as Hannibal’s mind plagued him to the point where the confession was building in his throat, sitting on his tongue, knocking at his teeth. </p><p>“Please, Hannibal,” Will pleaded, a hand reaching out to take Hannibal’s. Hannibal froze as Will’s fingers curled around his.  “Please help me understand what’s happening. Give me anything.” </p><p>“I haven’t been allowed to see Donald’s body, Will. I really am working with my lawyer and Alana to build your defense. We do have a meeting with Alana and my lawyer tomorrow. Beverly and I did get into a disagreement, but I would absolutely jump at the chance to reconcile with her.” Hannibal glanced up at Will who was listening far more patiently than he had been since Hannibal had bailed the empath from his cell. When Will didn’t interrupt, he continued on. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to take care of you during this time.” </p><p>“That’s a bit of an extreme for a doctor, patient relationship,” Will pointed out in a mumble, head falling forward so that his curls were hiding his face. “Why?” </p><p>“I adore you, Will. I adore you in frightening, dangerous ways.” Hannibal reached out, finger hooking under Will’s chin to bring Will’s face up so he could look into ocean eyes. Something light filled his chest at the first utterance of absolute truth that had come from his mouth in what felt like eternities. </p><p>“Liar,” Will whispered, a hand pushing Hannibal’s away. Hannibal’s eyes widened at the accusation, something sharp piercing his chest at how the one thing he truly meant was being shoved back into his face. Will collapsed back onto the bed, an arm draped over his eyes with a deep breath. “Fucking liar, Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” </p><p>“Liar?” Hannibal repeated in shock. Hannibal had been called a great many things, liar among them and he had no issues with the name. He knew and accepted the fact that he was a liar. Every aspect of his life might as well have been a lie, but those words... Those eleven words couldn’t ever be a lie. “I would never lie about-” </p><p>“I don’t want to hear anymore, Doctor Lecter,” Will interrupted, voice once more weak and tired. “Silence, if you would. I don’t want to hear you speak anymore.”</p><p>Hannibal nodded, letting his hands rest in his lap as he thought over exactly what he was meant to do here. Will obviously didn’t want him here and it was difficult because Hannibal absolutely knew the reason as to why. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he could tell Will. It wasn’t even that he wanted to hurt Will anymore, not in the slightest. He honestly, truly, deeply adored Will. This wasn’t a matter of right or wrong or of hurt pride anymore. Hannibal had bypassed that long ago. Now it was simply protection. </p><p>“Hannibal,” Will whispered. Hannibal looked up from his hands and shifted on the bed a bit more to look over the empath who shifted back onto his knees, hands fists and tangled up in his bedspread. “You’re my blood, Hannibal.” Will’s eyes darted up, an intensity in them that told Hannibal that he needed to pay attention at this moment far more than he had ever paid attention to anything else in his life before. “The rarest type. I can only be me when I am with you.” One of Will’s hands dislodged itself from the blanket and reached out to take one of Hannibal’s “I feel you in every pulse and I...” Will trailed off, licking his lips, eyes shooting down to the bed once more, eye contact far too difficult to keep. </p><p>“Yes?” Hannibal asked softly as if anything louder than a breath would destroy this moment like an act of God. </p><p>“I...” Will rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and exhaled deeply. That same exhale that Hannibal had heard the boy use several times before. An exhale that held entirely too much behind it, but Hannibal didn’t dare silence it this time. “I love you.” </p><p>Hannibal closed his eyes, letting the words sink into him. Three little words that held the cosmos in them. Hannibal’s eyes opened at a squeeze on his hand and when he saw Will it was as if space and time had become the finest point imaginable, as if time would collapse into one tiny speck and explode at light speed. The universe would begin and end with Will. Hannibal could run and search the universe forever, but in the end of it all, every path would lead right back to Will. He never stood a chance and it was little wonder why he felt so cheated. Falling in love, falling in love with Will, would take a courage that Hannibal just didn’t possess and it must have shone. </p><p>“You don’t have to say anything back,” Will informed swiftly. “I-I don’t even know if you’re capable of feeling something like love. I just-” </p><p>“I can feel love,” Hannibal corrected, throat dry and voice far more broken than he wanted it. “It’s not impossible for me.” </p><p>Will looked taken aback by the words, eyes going wide and cheeks turning a light shade of pink. Hannibal could see the gears turning in the empath’s head as Will tried to break down the words. Just because Hannibal could love, that didn’t mean he did. </p><p>Will licked his lips once more and glanced around the room before focusing back on the doctor in front of him, though on Hannibal’s nose rather than any form of eye contact. “I have lived long enough to know that what we share I can't replicate with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and me,” Will explained softly, his thumb brushing over the top of Hannibal’s hand. “It’s not that nobody else wants me, or at least I hope that other people could eventually want me. I-um... We...” </p><p>The struggle across Will’s face was nearly painful and caused Hannibal to grimace just slightly as he waited for Will to arrange his thoughts in a more cohesive line. </p><p>“The trust I give you, the trust you give me, is what keeps us safe in this world, in this life. So whether this heart beats another day or another hundred years, free in this house or somewhere behind bars, it is yours,” Will finished, voice no more than a whisper. </p><p>“You don’t know what you’re giving me,” Hannibal warned, the overwhelming need to protect Will driving him to spill everything, begging, pleading, bargaining with him to let everything go. “You don’t know what I could do to you with this type of information.” </p><p>“I’ve seen your manipulations, Hannibal. I’ve been part of them willingly.” Hannibal’s breath caught somewhere in his chest. Will did know, then. He had to. “I know exactly what giving you this means,” Will insisted, thumb stopping in its movements and causing Hannibal’s skin to feel funny at the lack of pattern. </p><p>“I do not think you fully grasp how badly I can twist your feelings for me,” Hannibal once again cautioned, free hand reaching out to carefully push a damp curl from Will’s face. </p><p>“Would you do that to me?” Will’s lips pulled up at the corners with a breathy chuckle. “Honestly, would you use me for your own personal gain?” </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>Will’s mouth became a bright smile, one that Hannibal hadn’t seen since they had met those months ago. It made his chest tighten. Will nodded with another small laugh. </p><p>“At least you’re being honest,” Will muttered, biting his tongue between his teeth. “Hannibal, please continue to be honest with me.” Hannibal nodded in answer, unsure if he could absolutely say anything and that dazzling smile softened as blue eyes closed. “If you feel for me, feel anything at all, even if it is adoration, kiss me.” </p><p>“Will, I-” </p><p>“Don’t argue with me. I’m still pissed off at you.” Hannibal wasn’t sure how much truth was behind that breathy laugh, but bright blue finally met merlot head on. “Just kiss me.”  </p><p>Hannibal’s eyes slid shut and he inhaled sharply, mind, soul, and heart being torn into absolute pieces. His body was dirty and he had never so badly wanted to scrub every inch of himself down in an attempt to clean the blood from his hands. Nothing he could ever do would fix this mess, but maybe... If he could finally be honest in one aspect of his life then maybe the final blow wouldn’t be quite so bad. </p><p>It was selfish, just as any act Hannibal made was. As much as he willed this moment to be for Will, the underlying fact that this was to fulfill some sick idea of cushioning separation did not leave Hannibal as he opened his eyes to look over the empath who was waiting patiently for Hannibal’s next move. </p><p>A hint of sadness dulled Will’s eyes and caused him to smile weakly. “It’s ok,” he assured, though Hannibal thought that it was possibly meant more for Will’s sake than Hannibal’s. “I’d rather know that this is one sided and just let it go than keep fighting for it. You don’t have to kiss me.” </p><p>“I know I don’t,” Hannibal whispered, turning a bit more to face Will. “Silly boy.” </p><p>Will’s surprise shot through those breathtaking eyes as Hannibal’s hand caressed over his cheek before slipping to the nape of his neck and pulling softly. Hannibal chuckled slightly at the way that Will willingly went with the motion without fight. A lamb being led to the slaughter. What would it take to silence the lamb? </p><p>Will’s skin was warm with lingering fever as their noses nuzzled one another’s. His breath was hot but Hannibal didn’t mind, especially with the way it caught when Hannibal’s fingers gave a light tug to Will’s drying curls.  </p><p>“Hannibal,” Will whispered, the name frail as it spilled from Will’s mouth. His eyes fluttered closed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Please.” </p><p>“Please?” Hannibal asked, the tease light, but evident in his voice. </p><p>“Love me.” </p><p>“Dear boy,” Hannibal muttered, leaning in close enough to allow their lips to skim. Will whimpered, a hand reaching out to cup Hannibal’s cheek. The pull from Will’s hand was ignored and Hannibal held his ground. “Promise me this is what you want, Will. Promise me that you understand what giving me your love entails because I am a weak and selfish man and I will use it against you.” </p><p>“I promise,” Will whined with a nod. “Just show me that the feeling is returned, even in the smallest amount. I don’t want to be wrong about your feelings for me. I need to know if I have successfully solved the puzzle to this door. <em>Please!”</em></p><p>Hannibal doubted if any puzzle would ever be successfully solved, especially one as complicated as this puzzle. He didn’t doubt Will and his abilities to see things that only God could possibly notice. No. His doubt rested in himself. He wasn’t sure if he could even solve his own puzzles and if a man didn’t know himself, how could anyone else expect to know him? </p><p>There was an audible gasp from Will as if he were surprised when Hannibal kissed him. Hannibal wanted to say that he was surprised by his movements as well, but it would be a lie. One truth to hide all the lies didn’t stop the bridges from burning in his want to create some distance, but it soothed the pain, even just barely. They would both come away from this burned beyond recognition, but at least there would be this moment to return to. A moment where Hannibal could voice, without having to say it aloud, how much he loved Will. </p><p>Will was still as the clock on the mantle clicked loudly through the front room, the moment seeming to stretch on through an eternity of four heartbeats before the empath finally reacted. </p><p>His hand against Hannibal's cheek pulled Hannibal closer, neediness deep in the movement. His other hand tangled itself into the front of Hannibal's suit, tugging with the same feeling behind it. </p><p>Desperate. That was the only word that Hannibal could think of to define what Will was feeling. It spilled from the man like an overflowing sink, only ever more apparent when Will let out a breathy moan into the kiss. </p><p><em>You mean it</em>, filled the limited space between them. Will's mind was yelling into the void to be snatched up by Hannibal. <em>You mean this</em>. </p><p>A loud slamming sound broke the two of them apart and Hannibal let his hands leave Will at the sight of a rather put off looking woman with her arms folded over her chest, a folder in one hand, and her hip jutted out to the side. Her normally brilliant smile was turned down into a frown and her dark eyes were sharp as they stared at Hannibal. </p><p>“Bev?” Will asked breathlessly. </p><p>“Don’t even start with me, pretty boy,” Beverly grumbled under her breath. “You could have told me that Daddy Money Bags over here bailed you out before I drove my ass all the way out there to see you.” </p><p>Hannibal blinked at the term. He could feel a smile want to pull at his lips at the name, but he held it back, sure that Beverly wasn’t above letting a fist fly if she was upset. She looked like the type that wouldn’t sit down and be silent and docile. She wouldn't be submissive in the slightest. She was a front lines kind of fighter and Hannibal admired that in the woman. She wouldn’t have been able to do her line of work if she weren’t extraordinary. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Will answered softly, confusion on his face. “I didn’t know you were going to be-what are you doing here?” </p><p>“Not around him,” Beverly answered bitterly, head nodding in Hannibal’s direction. </p><p>“Bev-” </p><p>“That’s quite alright,” Hannibal assured, cutting into Will’s scolding. “I’m sure I can find a use for me somewhere else.” Hannibal rose to his feet from the edge of the bed and side stepped around the fiber analysis, heading towards the kitchen. He stopped just inside of the other sitting room, taking a spot in one of the chairs positioned there, listening to the hushed conversation that was about to play out. </p><p>“I can’t believe you,” Beverly began, something completely hurt in her voice. “I told you exactly what he said.” </p><p>“I know what you told me,” Will muttered, the frightened feebleness that was agent Will Graham fully present now as well. “That doesn’t change that I-” </p><p>“So help me, if you say that you love him, I will burn this place to the ground, Will,” Beverly muttered, a tiredness in her tone that said that she had been stung up and possibly awake for far longer than she should have been. She wasn’t hurt or upset, just disappointed. </p><p>“No,” Will swiftly agreed. “Of course not. You know exactly what I’m doing.” </p><p>“Sure.” Disbelief. “After everything you’re still going through with this?” </p><p>“Even if I end up behind bars, the whole point of me going back into the field was this one task.” </p><p>Hannibal pulled some invisible lint from the knee of his dress pants, holding back his sigh. The words were so convincing. Will was so convincing. He was a cunning boy. Could bend any situation into exactly what he wanted and a sharpness in Hannibal’s chest pulled the air from the man’s lungs as he tried to shove away the fact that he was still being played. There were still those recipe cards and files in the kitchen, there were still photos of Margot Verger and him outside and in his office, there was still that ever echoing phone call to Jack Crawford. Such a conniving, manipulative little boy. </p><p>It hurt. It all hurt. Especially since everything that Will spoke seemed to be the truth. Hannibal had seen Will lie, and even if it had been convincing as well, there was something off in the words. There had been nothing off in the way that Will had said he loved Hannibal, but there was nothing off about what Will was saying now and it just made Hannibal that much more confused. </p><p>The idea of constantly being confused and lost was torturous. Will brought up so many undealt with emotions and pain that Hannibal had thought he had long ago put to rest, but maybe he had just hid them so deep inside of himself that he thought he had handled them. Maybe he was no better than some of his patients. Maybe he was just projecting everything onto Will. Everything that remained unresolved from his sister was now somehow focused on Will. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Will held so many of the same qualities of little Mischa that it was difficult to not compare them. </p><p>The innocence, the brains, the kindness, the deceitful manipulation that Hannibal willingly fell for. The tears and the neediness, the clinging to something stronger than themselves while wanting nothing more than to be independent from everything in their lives because that was what made them strong. The artful and creativeness, though their mediums differed greatly. Flowers and crayons were far different from bones and blood, but the masterpieces were stunning whatever the outcome. </p><p>“Why are you still...?” Beverly gave a deep breath and Hannibal could hear her begin to pace the floor. “You killed someone Will. You murdered someone and you’re still trying-” </p><p>“I will catch them.” Entirely determined. “If it is the very last thing I do, I will finish what I’ve started, in prison or not.” </p><p>There was a silence after Will’s words. A silence that Hannibal could only label as dislike. Beverly didn’t want Will to catch the Ripper? That was obviously what it was about. What did she want Will to do then? Fight the charges? She had made it perfectly clear that that was what her plans had been. </p><p>“You didn’t deny that you killed him,” Beverly muttered, tone something that Hannibal couldn’t name. In all of his years of people watching, this single moment he couldn’t tell what Beverly was feeling. </p><p>“I don’t have any memory of doing it,” Will answered. “How can I confirm or deny that I did it? It’s just as plausible both ways, isn’t it?” </p><p>“Will-” </p><p>“Why are you here, Bev?”</p><p>The air shifted into something darker and Hannibal glanced up to the empty doorway curiously, waiting for the woman’s answer to come. The world might as well have completely several dull rotations by the time Beverly finally did speak again. </p><p>“A friend of mine has a case. Her son went missing and no one has been able to find anything on the kid. He just vanished into thin air.”</p><p>“No one just vanishes,” Will nearly laughed. “Let me see the file.” There was a flutter of paper and Hannibal could clearly picture Will digging through the folder that Beverly had been holding onto earlier. </p><p>“The last anyone saw of him was him walking home from school. His friends said that they split up at their normal spot and then he never arrived home,” Beverly explained. “He wasn’t around anything with any security footage. I have absolutely nothing. All of his things were left on the street. His backpack and his phone. His father’s signed baseball that he took for a project was found in the gutter. That kid’s father died when he was young. It’s the only real thing he has of his dad. He wouldn’t just leave it in the middle of the street.” </p><p>“How old is he?” </p><p>“Eleven.” </p><p>“And this is your friend’s kid?” </p><p>“Yeah. Remember the one I told you about who was going through the messy divorce. Her son.” </p><p>“Can I keep this?” Will asked, most likely indicating to the folder. There was no answer, but Hannibal assumed that Beverly had nodded. “I’ll see if I can find anything about it.” Hannibal tipped his head at the sound of the folder being set aside. “What? What is it? You know something.” </p><p>“I don’t know anything,” Beverly defended quickly. “I’ve been working on this for the better part of the last week, but it was put on hold because of you.” </p><p>“Are... you blaming me?” Will inquired, voice hurt. </p><p>“No! Of course not, Will. I’m just as worried about you as I am her son. It’s a lot, Will. There’s a lot going on and I haven’t been sleeping and I just-” </p><p>“What did you figure out about the boy, Bev?”</p><p>“He’s the age range. You know, ten to seventeen.” </p><p>Age range? Hannibal straightened up in his chair a bit more. Age range for what exactly? Whatever it was, those ages were unsavory and it made Hannibal a fair bit uncomfortable. They were still children, still learning how the world worked. No child deserved whatever was coming for them in the vague situation that Beverly had laid out.  </p><p>“I was thinking the same thing,” Will said. “You haven’t told her your suspicions.” </p><p>“No.” Beverly snorted. “I wouldn’t dare tell her that unless I knew for certain that was what had happened to the boy.” </p><p>“I will...” Will gave a deep breath. “I will take a look into it while I have the chance. I’ll let you know what I find out by the end of the week.” </p><p>“You think you’ll have something by then?” </p><p>“I think that as long as nothing else bad happens, then I will have something for you by then,” Will agreed. “Bev?” </p><p>“Hmm...?”</p><p>“I’m meeting with a lawyer tomorrow. Alana is supposed to be there too. Did you want-I mean, I know that you wanted to work on my-I just-” </p><p>“Is he going to be there?” Beverly interrupted and Hannibal swore he could see the small head of curls bounce with a nod. “Right. Give me the time and the address. I’ll get in touch with Alana.”</p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>“Yeah. Whatever pretty boy,” Beverly grumbled with an exhale. “Just watch yourself.” </p><p>“I know,” Will assured. “I will.” </p><p>“And get some rest. You look like shit.” </p><p>“Fever.” </p><p>“Still?”</p><p>“If only some of my exes were this clingy, huh?” Will teased, a laugh turning into a fit of coughing. “I’ll be fine,” he assured when he once more caught his breath. “I promise.” </p><p>“Alright, pretty boy. I’ll talk to you later. Thank you for looking into this case. She’s a mess.” </p><p>“Thanks for checking up on me.” </p><p>“Anytime.” </p><p>Her footsteps went to the door and Hannibal could hear it open and shut and a deep breath from the empath, but he didn’t dare rise from the chair he sat in, allowing time for Will to decide what he wanted exactly. There was creaking from the bed and then padded footsteps from bare feet, Will glancing around the doorframe and into the room, eyes finally landing on Hannibal. </p><p>“What exactly did you two fight over?” Will questioned as he stepped into the sitting room that Hannibal doubted had ever been used in any aspect before. Will moved closer to Hannibal’s chair until he was standing beside it. “Please tell me. I don’t like you two being hostile.” </p><p>“I thought she explained it to you,” Hannibal deflected, a hand reaching out to slip into one of Will’s. He carefully pulled on Will’s hand and guided the man down and onto his lap. Will let his feet hand over the armrest of one side of the chair and curled himself against Hannibal’s chest with a sigh. </p><p>“She did, but I want to hear both sides,” Will explained softly, a hand petting over Hannibal’s tie repeatedly as if to straighten it. Will’s head tipped onto Hannibal’s shoulder as if it were too heavy to be held up any longer and Hannibal gave a small smile. “Please.” </p><p>One of Hannibal’s arms wrapped around Will’s waist to keep him in place while the other rested over Will’s thigh, thumb gently brushing over the fabric of Will’s pants. “She was upset because she didn’t think I was doing everything in my power to help you,” Hannibal explained. “I offered to pay for any expenses needed to help, but I suppose that she didn’t see that as good enough.” </p><p>“It’s pretty cheap, Doctor Lecter,” Will teased lightly, sounding as if he were on the edge of sleep. “Money is so material.” </p><p>“I can take you back to your cell if you-” </p><p>“No,” Will quickly cut into Hannibal’s joke with a chuckle, shaking his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. “No. I don’t want to be back in one of those cells. Have you ever been in one before Hannibal?” </p><p>“I can’t say I have, dear boy,” Hannibal replied softly, letting his head rest against Will’s with a deep breath. </p><p>“They’re intimidating to say the least. I never want to be back in one again.” </p><p>“How do I help with that, other than in a material sense?” Hannibal let his eyes close under the gentle, soothing pattern of Will’s hand over his chest. “I’m not sure how else to provide you with assistance.” </p><p>“Don’t let me lonely,” Will answered, the fingers of his other hand slowly sinking into Hannibal’s silky soft hair, playing with it gently. “Please.” </p><p>“Of course.” Will kissed his smile into Hannibal’s neck, breath on fire with fever. He shivered and Hannibal pulled the boy closer. “You should rest, Will,” Hannibal pressed, trying to move to the edge of the chair. Will shook his head. “Will,” Hannibal scolded softly. “I’m not going to leave you. Let’s get you to bed.” </p><p>“Not until you say it,” Will whispered, hand fisting around Hannibal’s tie and giving it an experimental tug, causing Hannibal to look down at the man who was slowly starting to glisten with sweat once more, the medicine’s helping effect obviously no longer enough. “Say it, Hannibal. Please.”</p><p>“Hush, <em>mylimas</em><em>,</em>” Hannibal instructed as he pushed himself from the chair and unsteadily to his feet. Will’s arms wrapped around his neck instantly, pulled himself closer to Hannibal’s body as Hannibal carried Will back into the other room. He rested Will into the bed and pulled the blanket up and over Will before sitting at the edge of the bed. </p><p>“Call me that again.” </p><p>Hannibal smiled kindly at the order and brushed back cinnamon curls from the empath’s face. “<em>Mylimas</em>.” </p><p>“Beloved,” Will muttered, one corner of his lips twitching up into a smile. His eyes flickered open and he reached out a hand, taking Hannibal’s into warm fingers. “Did you call your sister that?” </p><p>Of all the directions the conversation could have gone, Hannibal hadn’t pictured it moving towards his sister in any aspect. The question knocked him to silence as he watched the way that Will’s fingers played with his own. He tried to find a good train of thought, but all of them were sharp and painful with something deeply hidden in darkness with thickets of thorns. </p><p>“No,” he finally said, mouth going immediately dry. “No. I called her <em>mielasis.</em>” </p><p>“<em>Mielasis</em>,” Will repeated slowly, the word not sounding quite right across his tongue. “What does it mean?” </p><p>“Dear.” Hannibal found his free hand once more brushing curls from Will’s face while Will seemed thoroughly preoccupied with their tangled fingers. </p><p>“Tell me about her.” Will’s eyes flickered up and Hannibal knew that they didn’t miss the surprise across his own features. “Please?” Will softened, something hopeful in his small smile. </p><p>Hannibal swallowed and took a calming breath as images of his darling sister floated through his mind. “What would you like to know about her?” </p><p>This time it was Will’s turn to be shocked. His eyes widened and he looked away, pink on his cheeks, hand tightening in its grip on Hannibal’s. How endearing. </p><p>“I-I didn’t think you’d actually-” </p><p>“What do you want to know about her?” Hannibal pressed once more, fingers caressing over Will’s cheek. </p><p>“What was her name?” </p><p>“Mischa.” Hannibal couldn’t recall the last time he had mentioned the name aloud and it was like a breath of air left his lungs, causing an unknown ache in them to cease. “It translates to honey bee, if I’m not mistaken. Or maybe that was just a nickname my father gave her. She was a tiny, silly thing.” </p><p>“What did she look like?” </p><p>Hannibal’s head tipped to the side as he thought back over the last time he had seen her bright and innocent smile and his heart shattered a bit more. “Golden-blonde hair. Deep brown eyes that were nearly black. She enjoyed wearing sun dresses and running around our gardens barefoot and she refused to do her hair unless a red ribbon was tied into it.” </p><p>“She sounds adorable, actually,” Will said with a chuckle, finger tracing the vein in Hannibal’s hand to where it disappeared under the cuff of his suit. “How old were you when she was born?” </p><p>“Eight. My father worked and my mother got sick after having Mischa and was in bed most of the time.” The words were easier to say now that he had started and there was something light and lifting about someone finally knowing. It was almost like what Will had said about Ethan Pats death. Even if only the leather of Hannibal’s bentley ever knew the truth, it had to be said. “She was my ward.”</p><p>“And what happened to her?” </p><p>Or perhaps it wasn’t quite as easy as he had thought. The words gummed up in his mouth and when Will saw what Hannibal could only assume was a pained expression over his own face, Will quickly backtracked with a shake of his head. </p><p>“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me.” The words were quick and Will sat up, the blanket falling about his waist. Will’s hand took Hannibal’s cheek and it wasn’t until Will’s thumb brushed over Hannibal’s cheek that Hannibal realized he was silently crying. “Please don’t cry, Hannibal.” Will gave a desperate snort of laughter, eyes darting about Hannibal’s person as if in search of a physical wound to heal. “Crying doesn’t suit you.” </p><p>Hannibal inhaled deeply and nodded his head, pulling from Will’s grip to wipe away the dampness from his own cheeks. “She and my parents were killed,” Hannibal replied in a tone barely above a whisper. He didn’t think he could possibly make the words any louder. “They died in front of me and I couldn’t help them. That is what happened to my sister, Will.” Will’s face dropped and he tried to reach out to Hannibal once more, but Hannibal got to his feet, far too raw to allow Will any closer. “I would appreciate it if we dropped the subject.” </p><p>“Yes,” Will agreed with a single nod, eyes falling to his hands folded in his lap. “I’m sorry for prying.” </p><p>“It’s perfectly fine to be curious, Will,” Hannibal assured, though his insides felt like they were trying to escape. “Please try to rest. I will be here when you wake.” </p><p>Will nodded and slowly lied back down on his bed. “Hannibal?” </p><p>“Yes, dear boy?” </p><p>“You heard our conversation, right? All of it?” </p><p>Hannibal nodded. </p><p>Will licked his lips hesitantly. “I hope you know that what I told her wasn’t true. I meant what I said earlier.” </p><p>“And what was it you meant?” </p><p>“That I love you.” </p><p>Hannibal let the sentiment sink into him once more, something in the back of his mind screaming at him to remember everything that Will had against him. Everything that Will could do to hurt him. Everything that Will had at his disposal to manipulate him and yet somehow the voice was nothing more than the wind through the trees. The stronger voice in Hannibal’s head took over. Not the smart one. Not the logical one. Not the methodical one. The one that Hannibal had learned to shut down, but Will had brought back to life. </p><p>“I love you too, <em>mylimas.</em>”</p><hr/><p>
  <em>mylimas- beloved</em>
</p><p>
  <em>mielasis- dear</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to my lovely beta!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading, your kudos and your comments! Let me know if you liked it and if maybe there should be more.</p><p>Thanks again my wonderful beta, @PitaGonzalezMe on twitter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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